


Baby's Firsts

by mainstreamelectricalparade



Series: Hardest Lessons (Softest Results) [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Baby Peter Parker, Clingy Peter Parker, Cuddles, Fluff, Gen, Grandma Rhodey, Humor, I'll probably add more tags as I add chapters, It's that simple, Italian Tony Stark, Kid Peter Parker, Lullabies, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Sings, Uncle Rhodey, babies cry and get upset and uncomfortable and parents comfort them, i don't know how many chapters this is going to have, like super mild, like the kind of hurt/comfort that's just. standard baby care? idk, there's an ongoing list of "firsts" that i wanna do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 34,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mainstreamelectricalparade/pseuds/mainstreamelectricalparade
Summary: A series of Peter's "firsts" through Tony's eyes.





	1. Baby's First Home

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this partly on my own, but actually mostly from a few comments on my previous works. People were suggesting "firsts" that they wanted to see, and it made me want to write a bunch, so that's what this will be!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony brings Peter home from the hospital.
> 
> (Set in August 2001)

On Saturday, a week after Peter was born, Tony and Pepper arrived at the hospital to see about taking him home. It was the first time since Peter was born that Tony had seen him without the cannula in his nose, and an ache in his chest that he hadn't paid much attention to before eased up when he saw that it was gone.

One thing Peter had to do before he could be released was pass something called the “car seat test”, which was basically leaving the kid strapped into his car seat for an hour to see if he could breathe. Tony had some concerns about that, but he kept them to himself, because all the nurses seemed confident that he would pass.

Peter actually did pass, apparently with flying colors. The doctor said some babies had to do the car seat test a couple times before they could go home, but Peter passed it the first time.

Tony crouched down next to the car seat on the floor. “Show off,” he whispered to Peter.

Peter just drooled in response, but Tony wasn't expecting much else.

Apparently “going home” outfits were a big deal, so that morning before Tony and Pepper had left the penthouse they went through the clothes they had bought earlier in the week in search of the “right” outfit. Instead of trying to be sneaky about it this time, Pepper just held up the “Daddy's Little Man” bodysuit, a hat and a pair of pants with feet in a coordinating color, and the blanket Tony had picked out. Tony had agreed to it, for lack of a more fashion-forward idea.

Peter kicked up a fuss again when Tony started changing him into the new outfit. Tony apologized by scooping him up when he was done and cradling him to his chest for a little while before he had to go back in the car seat.

He was getting more comfortable with holding Peter. This was a good thing for obvious reasons, and apparently something about it was cute (probably Peter) because Pepper snapped a picture with a disposable camera she pulled out of her purse.

Peter sneezed in the picture. Tony made a comment about how he was practicing for future school photos. Then he made a face, because thinking that far ahead made his head spin. Then he realized there was baby snot on his shirt and suddenly the face was for a different reason. (Pepper and the nurse helping them get ready to go both laughed at him.)

\---

Happy looked visibly uncomfortable when Tony and Pepper found him waiting at the pick-up zone outside the hospital.

“What's with the face, Hap, you look like you've never seen a baby before,” Tony said, walking much slower than normal so he didn't jostle the car seat he was carrying.

“Not one that small,” Happy said, eyeing the tiny person in the car seat apprehensively. “And I've never driven with one in my car before.”

“Best start getting used to it now, Happy, because this isn't a one-time thing,” Tony reminded. He lifted the car seat a little higher. “So say hi to your new boss-in-training.”

Happy's expression turned into something resembling constipation. “Do I have to?”

“If I had to learn how to change diapers, yes, you have to say hello to the baby,” Pepper interjected. “And quickly, we're taking up space and people are waiting.”

Happy squinted down at Peter. “Hi, kid,” he said gruffly.

Peter didn't seem to react at all.

Tony hefted the car seat through the open car door and settled it onto the back seat. “That was Uncle Happy, kiddo,” he said, whispering the word “uncle” so he didn't scare Happy away. “He's not a baby person. Or a people person.” He fiddled with the seat belt. “Whoever designed these car seat installation parts has it out for tired new parents.” He glanced up to see Peter staring at him. “It's ok, though, I'll figure it out, because I...” he found where he was supposed to put the seat belt and buckled it into place triumphantly, “...am a genius! Look at that, I told you I'd figure it out.”

Peter showed no indication that he was remotely impressed.

“You'll thank me later when your car seat doesn't tip over,” Tony sniffed.

(He didn't see Pepper behind him smiling broadly.)

\---

A few people in the lobby of the penthouse building stared at Tony when he came through carrying a slightly fussy baby in a car seat, just like they had when he and Pepper went through carrying bags upon bags and boxes upon boxes of baby stuff. Nobody evidently found it wise to say anything, though.

Pepper could move faster than Tony, since she didn't have a tiny living human to carry, so she went ahead and pressed the button for the elevator and waited for Tony to catch up.

They arrived at their floor (the top floor because Tony had “just felt like it” when he bought it) and Pepper opened the door for Tony, who by this point no longer had a free hand because he was using it to reach into the car seat and touch Peter where it seemed to be the most soothing for the little guy – his tummy, hands, and cheeks in particular.

“Just a couple more minutes, kiddo,” he muttered, stepping into the penthouse and letting Pepper close the door behind him, “then I'll let you out of there.” He set Peter's car seat down, wincing as Peter's fussing turned into proper crying, and set about taking his shoes and jacket off as quickly as he could.

“Ok, Tony, as much as I hate to do this,” Pepper began, sounding like she didn't really hate to do it _that_ much, “I'm going to leave you two alone for a while and go down to SI to do some work. You get a maternity leave, but _someone_ has to do your job for you in the meantime.”

Tony kicked his shoe off so hard it turned into a projectile missile and rocketed into the wall two feet away. “You're leaving?” he repeated, ignoring the maternity leave joke.

“Yes, Tony, I can't be here all day,” Pepper replied. “You'll be fine. This will be a good learning experience for you, at any rate.”

Tony had never been left entirely alone with Peter before, except for a couple times in the NICU when the nurse walked away for like two minutes to check on another baby who was significantly less healthy than Peter was.

Tony briefly considered saying something that might possibly guilt-trip Pepper into staying a little longer, but then he looked down at Peter, who had started hiccuping from crying. The sight of it did weird things to his heart that he supposed he would have to start getting used to.

“Ah, come here, kiddo,” Tony said, shrugging his jacket off and discarding it on the floor in his haste to prevent Peter from doing the pouty lip thing, which he had a tendency to do around this point when he got fussy. He crouched next to Peter's car seat and started undoing the buckles. “God, this thing is impossible,” he muttered. “Why did we buy it?” Finally he managed to free the upset baby from his seat belt prison, lifting him out quickly but carefully. He settled Peter into the crook of his arm and started the soothing touches up again. The most effective one seemed to be a hand on Peter's tummy, rubbing and patting rhythmically. “You're fine, huh? Feel free to settle down any time. You know, you were not this fussy during the car seat test, where is this coming from?”

(Pepper slipped back out the door while Tony was distracted. He didn't notice for a while.)

Even after Peter stopped crying, it took a while for him to get the hiccups under control. It was actually kind of cute when it wasn't accompanied by tears and punctuated by wailing, so Tony didn't mind that nearly as much.

“JARVIS, you up?”

“For you, sir, always.”

Tony shifted Peter in his arms. “I'd like you to meet someone.”

“I assume you mean the baby, sir?”

“Yes, smartass, the baby,” Tony grumbled. “This is Peter Parker Stark. He's my son.”

“Congratulations, sir,” JARVIS replied.

\---

It unfortunately didn't take long for Peter to get fussy again. At first Tony thought it might because he had put Peter down on top of his blanket on the floor in the living room while he talked JARVIS through all the stuff he wanted to add to the system for Peter, but when he picked the fussy baby up he just started gumming at Tony's shoulder.

“I'm. I'm sorry, are you trying to eat me?” Tony asked, turning his head to look at Peter. “Is that what this is about? Are you hungry?” He started toward the kitchen as he talked. “Because the formula's in the kitchen, I can't do that myself. Surely you know that, you've been bottle-fed since you popped out.”

Peter kept making the wet spot on Tony's shoulder bigger for the entire time that Tony was making the bottle. He squinted at the instructions on the formula container and followed them clumsily, with only one hand available.

“You know, my shirt can't possibly taste that good,” Tony said. “Five minutes for me to make this thing, you can't wait that long?” He set the freshly-mixed bottle on the counter and shifted Peter in his arms for a better feeding position, then picked the bottle back up. “We'll do this on the couch, I'm not standing still for however long it takes you to drink this.”

\---

Peter fell asleep after his bottle was empty, which Tony could understand. Food comas were something he related to.

Tony wasn't really sure what to do with himself after he put Peter into the travel crib. He didn't have immediate access to any projects, and it would probably be a bad idea to get absorbed in one right then anyway. What did normal parents do while their kid napped? His eyes wandered momentarily to the bar, but once again, that would be a fantastic example of a horrible idea.

He hadn't had a drink since before Peter was born.

He supposed that was probably a good thing.

Tony flopped onto the couch on his back. “JARVIS, I'm bored,” he complained, quietly so that he wouldn't wake Peter up. “Entertain me.”

“If I may direct your attention to the bookshelf to your right, sir, you will find that you have not read most of those books since purchasing them.” JARVIS' volume was lower than normal as well, without Tony prompting him to turn it down.

Tony lifted his head to look at the bookshelf. Then he scowled. “When did you get so sassy? Who gave you permission to be like that?”

“You programmed me yourself, sir, you tell me,” JARVIS said.

Tony didn't really feel like getting into a battle of wits with his AI, so he wandered over to the bookshelf and started browsing, grumbling to himself.

\---

“Whoa, that's a smell,” Tony said, looking up from the book he was flipping through upon catching a whiff of something new and not particularly pleasant. He looked over the top of the couch at Peter in the travel crib; the kid was awake and simply lying there, apparently unperturbed by whatever was in his diaper that was causing the smell. “Oh, great.”

Tony stood up and went to peer into the crib. Peter looked back at him innocently, like he didn't just make a mess that Tony was going to have to clean up. Of course, that might have been because he didn't know how to make his face do expressions yet, but that didn't matter.

Tony made a face. “This isn't going to be fun for either of us, you know that right?”

Peter remained entirely unbothered by the prospect of being changed until Tony started fiddling with his clothes. Then he started squirming on the changing mat and looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“You and me both, buddy,” Tony said, grimacing as he undid the diaper closures. “You don't even eat solids yet, explain to me why this is possible.”

Peter huffed and kicked a foot out in response, looking on the verge of tears but otherwise making no indication that he was about to throw a fit, which made things marginally easier for Tony.

Tony changed the diaper as quickly as possible without missing anything. “You know, someday you're going to be mad at me and I'm going to remind you of all the diapers. Just so you know what to expect. I will hold this over your head forever.”

Tony snapped the closure of Peter's bodysuit closed over the clean diaper, and he started to put the pants back on but Peter started whining and kicking again. Tony paused and looked at Peter's face, scrunched up in frustration.

“If I don't put the pants back on you, do you promise it'll stop you from crying?” Tony asked suspiciously. The further away he held the pants the calmer Peter seemed to be, so he took that as a yes. “Ok, we'll do that then. Wow, you really hate when I try to change your clothes, don't you?” He leaned over and tossed the pants back into the second suitcase Pepper had bought to put Peter's stuff in, then returned to kneeling in front of Peter, who was still flat on his back on the mat on the floor.

“Now what?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw some comments like "lol imagine Tony changing a diaper for the first time" and I was like ".... i'm listening"


	2. Baby (and Daddy)'s First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony discovers the joys of trying to put your baby down for the night.
> 
> (Set in August 2001)

Tony had to learn the hard way that Peter wasn't a very good sleeper.

The nurses had neglected to mention that, and Tony was thinking they maybe did it on purpose. It seemed like the sort of thing they would find funny.

Tony put Peter down for the first time at 7, with the travel crib set up in Tony's own room. The kid refusing to go to sleep, despite being obviously exhausted, until Tony picked him up and held him should have been the first sign, probably.

Tony held Peter for ages, rocking and bouncing and trying everything he could possibly think of short of actually sedating him, because that was probably illegal, not to mention immoral.

“JARVIS, any ideas?” Tony muttered, looking down at the baby in his arms. “My arms are getting sore.”

That was sort of a lie. Peter was still extremely tiny, although he had grown some during his time in the NICU. But Tony had been carrying him around the room for the better part of an hour now, and even the smallest things start feeling a little heavy after that long.

“Many people suggest that music might help, sir,” JARVIS replied after a moment.

Tony tilted his head back in frustration. The only music he really had was the rock music he liked blaring in his workshop, and somehow he got the feeling that wasn't the kind of music they meant.

“I don't have baby music, JAR,” he pointed out.

“Many parents choose to substitute their own voices in place of recorded audio, sir.”

Tony froze. “You want me to _sing_ to him?” he asked in disbelief. “You're kidding, right?”

“Studies show that infants are soothed by the sound of their parents' voices,” JARVIS said.

Tony snorted. “I've been talking to him all night, if that were true he'd be sound asleep right now.”

“If you have a better idea, sir, I would love to hear it.”

Tony scowled. “Who even programmed you, anyway?” he complained. “And before you say anything, yes, smart ass, I know it was me.”

Tony kept walking around his bedroom randomly, wracking his brain for any songs he might know that could serve as some sort of lullaby. He usually stuck close to classic rock in terms of his own music taste, but he was sure if he thought hard enough he could probably remember at least a couple songs that were soft enough to sing to a baby with sensitive ears.

Tony adjusted the way he was holding Peter just a little bit as he cleared his throat.

“If I sound awful, JAR, I'm warning you now this will be your fault.”

“If that puts your mind at ease, sir.”

Damn that little sass bucket.

Tony looked down at the baby in his arms as he started singing. Peter looked back at him, his wide eyes almost unblinking. Anybody else staring at him like that would have made Tony shut up so fast he'd get vocal whiplash, but with Peter it felt more like bonding than anything.

Ugh. Emotion. He supposed that was just one more thing to get used to now that he had this kid.

 _It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside_  
_I'm not one of those who can easily hide_  
_I don't have much money, but boy, if I did  
_ _I'd buy a big house where we both could live_

Tony watched as Peter's eyes grew heavier and heavier. He kept singing. Maybe JARVIS wasn't just taking the mickey on this one.

 _And you can tell everybody, this is your song_  
_It maybe quite simple, but now that it's done_  
_I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words  
_ _How wonderful life is while you're in the world_

Once Peter's eyes closed and he was making the snuffling sounds Tony was learning to associate mostly with sleep, Tony slowly and carefully put him back in the crib and left the room, leaving the door open so he could hear if Peter woke up before he came back to go to bed himself.

“That was lovely, sir,” JARVIS said at that whisper volume he had used earlier during Peter's nap.

Tony blinked rapidly and cleared his throat. “Shut up.”

\---

Tony had been reading on the couch for about an hour when JARVIS spoke.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but one of your new protocols requires me to let you know if anything seems to be wrong with Peter.”

Tony sat up straight, listening for the sound of Peter crying. He heard nothing. “What do you mean, JARVIS?”

“Peter is wheezing, sir.”

That got Tony up and off the couch in an instant, running to his bedroom to check on Peter. This had been something he was warned to keep an eye out for, but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

Tony leaned over Peter's crib to listen to him breathing. It definitely sounded a little wheezy. Peter was also awake, and while he didn't look too distressed, he didn't look too happy either. Tony reached into the crib and smoothed his hand over the peach-fuzzy hair on Peter's head, cringing every time Peter breathed. “What do I do, JARVIS?”

“Medical journals suggest that the most common home remedies include humidifiers, bulb syringes, hydration, and nebulizers.”

Tony bit back a curse. “I don't have that stuff. Can babies drink water?”

“It is not advisable, sir, but you might try a bottle.”

Duh.

“Right,” Tony muttered. “Is it safe to leave him alone while I make one? I should probably take him with me, right?”

“Whatever you would prefer, sir.”

“You know, it wouldn't kill you to be just a little less snarky when I'm panicking, JAR,” Tony pointed out while he smoothed Peter's hair down one more time before lifting the baby out of the crib.

He made another bottle the same way he had the first time earlier in the day, with Peter tucked into one arm. The only difference this time was that instead of holding Peter to keep him from crying, he was holding him to keep an eye (or an ear) on the wheezing. It seemed a little better now that Peter wasn't flat on his back anymore, but it was still persisting, and Peter was starting to make a noise that suggested he would like to cry, but didn't have the air for it.

Tony went back to the couch and sat down in the corner of it with one leg tucked up to assist his arm in propping Peter up. “Ok, Petey,” he said, keeping his voice low, “let's see if this helps, huh?”

Peter accepted the bottle with little coaxing, and the more formula that disappeared into his tummy, the less, Tony was relieved to note, his lungs wheezed on every breath.

“You're a lifesaver, JAR,” Tony murmured, watching Peter's eyes slip closed before the bottle was fully empty. The wheezing had completely stopped. “He's asleep, do I still need to burp him?”

“It is recommended.”

“All right, then,” Tony said, glad that he had thought to grab one of the cloths on his way out of the kitchen. Spit-up on his shirt wasn't something he felt like dealing with at the moment.

(Tony made a mental note to buy a humidifier and call a doctor about the wheezing soon.)

\---

The third baby-related issue of the night came after Tony had gone to bed.

Because of course. That is the “new parent experience”.

Tony had nearly managed to forget that babies have no control over their bladders.

\---

The fourth time, Tony thought Peter might just be trying to see what he could get away with.

Tony dragged himself out of bed and over to the crib, looking down at the fussy baby. “Now what's wrong, kid?” he grumbled, squinting in the low light his bedside lamp cast around the room.

Peter whined and squirmed and let out a lone, pitiful cry.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just so we're clear, something is actually wrong with you, right? You're not mocking me?”

Peter made another crying sound. A shiny tear track made it's way down the side of his face.

Tony sighed, already feeling himself give in. “You're such a stinker,” he commented, reaching into the crib and lifting Peter out. “I can't even say all this baby lifting is a good arm work out, you weigh less than most of my power tools.”

He tucked Peter into his chest and made shushing noises, starting to walk around his room again because the movement had seemed to help the first time. “What's up with you, then?” he asked. “Do you miss sleeping in the NICU, or did you give the nurses just as much grief as you're giving me?”

“If I may, sir, Peter began to calm considerably starting from the moment you picked him up,” JARVIS said.

Tony looked down at Peter, who definitely already looked much more settled than he had in his crib.

“You're kidding me,” Tony said to the baby. “Tell me you're pulling my leg, here. You woke up because you missed _me_?”

The thought was as, admittedly, cute as it was baffling.

Peter turned his face toward Tony again, letting out a sleepy huff. Tony's chest warmed as he was reminded of holding Peter as he fell asleep in the NICU that first night, with a nurse standing nearby and smiling at them in approval.

Tony ran the back of his finger along Peter's cheek. “I missed you too, bambino,” he whispered.

He was a little surprised to hear himself use an Italian endearment, he wasn't sure where it had come from. Maybe Maria Stark had temporarily possessed him from beyond the grave and made him say it, because he hadn't spoken Italian in years, but his mother had called him “bambino” on occasion when he was little, himself. It was a bittersweet memory, but the nickname fit Peter perfectly.

 _Fa la ninna bel bambin  
_ _Fa la nanna bambin bel_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duuuude, Tony's really getting Dad Feels now!!
> 
> I had a lot of fun researching songs for Tony to sing to Peter. I got the idea for it from vivicrazy7 on Tumblr, who directed me to a really cute post by codeflaws (also Tumblr) who made art of Tony singing his baby to sleep using "You'll Be In My Heart" from Tarzan. I loved it a lot, but I didn't want to use that song because, yes the movie was out in 2001, but Tony doesn't strike me as the type to have seen it? You know what I mean? So I went with a nice little Elton John song instead. (I would have liked to use one by Jack Johnson, because I was hit with the Iron Dad feels when I listened to it, but that one came out in 2005 >.<)
> 
> I also decided to slip a little Italian in there, because I love the "Tony is Italian" headcanons, plus I just really love the Italian language as a whole, I think it's beautiful. I found the lyrics that I used in the last scene at https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=1447 (there's a little audio player to listen to it if you scroll down a bit) and you can imagine Tony singing it or not, I kind of left that open to interpretation.


	3. Baby's First Bath (at home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's been home for a few days. Tony's attempting to give him his first home bath in preparation for a special visitor.
> 
> (Set in August 2001)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part ends with MAJOR - well, this whole thing is basically fluff, but the fluff at the end is like. Ultimate fluff.
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter, but I really liked how it turned out and I couldn't think of anything to add to it without kind of messing up the flow. It's a short and sweet one, we'll call it that.

Peter was _squalling_.

Tony had never heard the kid wail this loud in all the time he'd had him at home so far.

Cause?

Bath time.

The one thing. The _one thing_ Peter apparently hated more than getting his clothes changed was being completely undressed and set in a bath chair full of soapy warm water in the kitchen sink.

“Peter, come on, I'm doing you a favor here, bud,” Tony said, keeping one hand on Peter's tummy to prevent him from slipping (or screaming louder, because that happened the last time he dared to move it), while the other rubbed a washcloth full of baby shampoo over Peter's peach fuzz hair, careful to avoid his eyes. “Uncle Rhodey is visiting today, he's a big fan of hygiene.”

Tony didn't actually think Rhodey would notice if Peter hadn't had a bath prior to his visit, because Peter only smelled when his diaper was full, and Rhodey had seen Tony in varying states of unwashed in college (and adult life) and kept him around anyway, but it was the thought that counted, right?

“Pete, look,” Tony said, reaching for the squeaky bath duck Pepper had dropped off the other day. “Look at the duck.” He squished it to make it squeak, desperately hoping it would distract Peter. Peter ignored it entirely and kept crying.

Tony sighed and started rinsing the suds out of Peter's hair. “I promise you'll appreciate being clean once this part is over,” he said. “Please stop crying, kid, you know I don't do well with emotions and you are _seriously_ doing things to mine right now, you're not on a one-way street.”

Tony was well aware Peter couldn't understand him in the slightest, but he tried.

\---

“You will be pleased to know,” Tony announced finally, glancing over to the hooded towel he had spread out on the counter before all the bath drama started, “that the worst of this is over.”

He lifted Peter out of the bath chair and onto the towel. At first Peter was outraged, because apparently cool air was even worse than the warm water, but then Tony fit the hood of the towel around his head and wrapped the corners around his body almost like a loose version of swaddling. It looked simultaneously hilarious and adorable; the hood was sized to fit most babies until they're not babies anymore, and on Peter's preemie head it slipped down over his eyes a bit.

Once the towel was secure, Tony scooped Peter up and rested him against his shoulder for the part he figured Peter would actually like – apology snuggling. Peter stopped screaming and switched to low whining.

“I'm sorry kiddo,” Tony said sincerely, swaying slightly and rubbing Peter's back soothingly. “I hope that didn't permanently traumatize you.” He paused. “Who am I kidding? You're probably not even going to remember this in fifteen minutes.”

Peter huffed against Tony's neck. Tony could feel the water droplets from Peter's arm soaking part of his t-shirt, but he could live with that if it meant Peter was calming down.

Tony took Peter into the bedroom to dry him off properly and get him dressed, settling Peter into a little makeshift nest on his own bed with raised blanket walls so that Peter wouldn't be able to go anywhere. Not that he knew how to roll yet, but who knew how far wiggling could get him.

“Ok, what does a baby wear,” Tony muttered, digging through Peter's suitcase, “to meet their uncle... who's not really an uncle... but good luck telling the _uncle_ that... How many times can I say 'uncle' before it stops sounding like a word? Uncle... uncle... Ah.” He spotted the bodysuit with the goofy-looking cartoon plane on it that he had bought with Rhodey in mind. “Bingo.”

Tony grabbed a clean diaper and a pair of red footed pants that matched one of the colors of the plane and sat on the bed in front of Peter. “Ok, kiddo, a little more discomfort, then I promise I won't put you through this again for the rest of the day. Or at least until you spit up on yourself and I have no choice.”

Peter made pitiful noises that tugged at Tony's heartstrings the entire time, and as soon as he had put everything away he wasted no time in picking the fussing baby up to comfort him. “You're ok,” he said. “It's ok.” He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but over the last few days he had developed a sort of... _cooing_ tone when he was comforting Peter. It was absolutely disgusting, but it worked to calm the cries that physically hurt to listen to, so he couldn't exactly discredit it.

Oh, god, if he had to use that voice while Rhodey was visiting he was never going to hear the end of it.

Peter was still a little upset, so Tony started up a gently playful bouncing motion.

“I know, baths are the worst,” he said sympathetically, “Dad's the worst for making you take one.”

He stopped talking, stopped moving. That was the first time he had ever referred to himself as “Dad”. It sort of just... slipped out. Like calling Peter “bambino” a few nights ago, he hadn't said it intentionally, but he didn't hate the way it sounded by a long shot.

Tony looked down at Peter. Peter was looking back at him intently with his wide eyes that he apparently never felt the urge to blink unless he was fighting sleep.

“Hey, how about that,” Tony said softly, lifting Peter a little higher in his arms. “I'm Dad, Pete. What do you think about that?” Peter cooed. Tony chuckled.

“You know what, bambino?” Tony said, aware of his eyes feeling a little damp and not caring. He leaned down and, also for the first time, pressed a kiss to Peter's forehead. “I think I like it, too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I almost cried when I wrote that last little bit? That's normal, right?)
> 
> Y'all are gonna be STOKED for the next chapter, if the comments on previous chapters are any indication. Uncle Rhodey is coming!!


	4. Baby's First Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Rhodey's in town!
> 
> (Set in August 2001)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, y'all have been SCREAMING for an appearance from "Uncle Rhodey" since... maybe even before I posted the first chapter of this? So it's finally here and I hope you like it! I had fun writing it, that's for sure.
> 
> This is a nice long chapter to kind of make up for how short the last one was.

Rhodey called from the airport around noon. He hadn't been able to stay in the city when he flew Tony over for Peter's birth, he had to get back to California for a while. He made promises to come visit as soon as he could, though, and now he was on his way to the penthouse to meet his nephew.

And, yeah, _technically_ Peter wasn't his nephew, because he wasn't biologically Tony's brother, but screw biology, Rhodey tolerated Tony when he was the most irritating, completely hopeless fifteen year old college freshman anyone could ever have the misfortune of rooming with, and if he hadn't been scared off back then, he was stuck now.

Rhodey let himself into the penthouse, because he'd had a key to it for as long as Tony had.

“Hey Tony,” he called as he came in.

Tony had been playing on the floor with Peter for the better part of an hour after the morning's traumatic bath experience. They had started doing “tummy time”, and so far the sessions were only a few minutes long but Peter seemed to enjoy them.

Tony looked toward the door, where he could see half of Rhodey from the back as he kicked his shoes off next to Tony's. Tony looked down at Peter, flipping him over gently so he was on his back instead of his front.

“Ready to meet your Uncle Rhodey, kiddo?” he asked. Peter just looked at him. “Of course you are.”

“He better be,” Rhodey said, coming into the living room and kneeling on the floor next to Tony. “This is Peter, huh?”

“Yep,” Tony said, leaning into the one-armed hug Rhodey offered. “Peter Parker Stark.”

“Hi, Peter,” Rhodey said, addressing the baby. “I'm Uncle Rhodey.”

Peter's only response was to drool. Tony caught it with a burping cloth before it could get too close to his freshly washed hair.

“He's little,” Rhodey commented. “How early did you say he was?”

“A month,” Tony said. “He's doing pretty well, all things considered.”

“Looks like it.” Rhodey smiled down at Peter. “Can I touch him?”

“Duh,” Tony said, looking pointedly at where his own hand was resting on Peter's tummy.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Just checking.” He reached out and gently stroked a finger against Peter's hand. “Oh, wow, he's soft.”

“I know,” Tony said.

“Can I hold him?”

“Absolutely.” Tony reached down and scooped Peter off the floor. “If he screams it's not your fault, he's the weirdest kid I've ever met.”

Rhodey smirked. “And yet you look more in love right now than you did when you thought you were in love with that girl in college, what was her name...”

“Platypus-” Tony protested.

“Started with a J...”

“Rhodey-”

“Je-”

“Rhodes, do you want to hold the kid or not?” Tony interrupted. He wasn't in the mood to be mocked for his college dating days.

Rhodey shut up immediately. “Yes, I do,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Tony held Peter out to Rhodey, holding the kid in place until Rhodey got his arm positioning figured out, and then moving his hands away.

Peter fussed a little bit, but he didn't seem too upset yet about being held by someone who wasn't Tony.

“Oh my god, I feel like I'm holding a doll,” Rhodey whispered. “How big is he, now?”

Tony was very familiar with that feeling. “Probably about six pounds. A little more, maybe, but not much.” He sat and watched the two of them for a moment, until Peter's fussing, which had calmed a little, started picking up in intensity. Rhodey looked at Tony.

“Do you want him back?”

Tony considered it. “Nah, I want to see if he chills out on his own.”

“Does he do that very often?”

“Um... So far not once.”

“Great,” Rhodey said, shifting Peter to one arm. “What usually helps?”

Tony shrugged. “He _likes_ being held, but, uh. That's clearly not doing much right now.”

Rhodey fixed Tony with a knowing look. “Ever think maybe he just likes being held by _you_? Because you're his dad?”

Yes, that thought had crossed Tony's mind. Several times over the last week and a half, actually. He physically clamped his tongue between his teeth to stop himself from being sarcastic about it.

Tony leaned closer and ran his hand over Peter's hair a few times. “Settle down, kiddo,” he said softly. “That's Uncle Rhodey, we _like_ Uncle Rhodey, remember? Oh my god, Rhodey, look at his lip, _look at_ that, who do you know who _actually_ , physically sticks their lip out like that when they pout?” Tony gestured to the exaggerated pouty lip Peter was doing.

“Um. You,” Rhodey said, looking at Peter's face. “Mostly when you were younger. And usually only when you were running thirty-six hour days on four hours of sleep and three pots of coffee.”

Tony wished neither of them could remember that.

After a few minutes, Peter still wouldn't calm down (actually, he just got _more_ upset), so Tony finally relented and held his arms out for Rhodey to give him his kid.

“Come here, Pete. Sorry, platypus,” Tony said, standing up with Peter tucked against his chest to walk him around the room a little, making shushing noises and talking to the baby softly.

Rhodey shrugged. “Hey, man, babies like their parents, I get it. I'm not offended.”

Tony glanced at the clock. “He's probably getting hungry, too,” he noted to himself. “Go ahead and get comfy, if you want, I'll be back after I make a bottle.”

Rhodey looked amused for some reason. “God, do you realize how domestic you sound right now?” he asked, hoisting himself onto the couch and leaning back.

Tony made a face at him. “I'm acutely aware,” he said. “Be right back.”

\---

Rhodey was kind of amazed by how well Tony had already adapted to Peter's presence in his life.

After Tony returned from the kitchen, he fed Peter and he and Rhodey talked for a while, catching each other up on what they had missed. Tony seemed to be deliberately skipping over talking about a couple of “new dad” things, and Rhodey was determined to find out what they were.

When Tony got up again to put Peter down for a nap, he didn't come back for a while, so Rhodey went to see what was taking so long.

As he approached the open door of Tony's bedroom, Rhodey could hear Tony's voice coming from within, and he slowed down to listen without being seen. It sounded like he was humming, at first, but when Rhodey listened more carefully he could make out quiet words.

 _Tony was singing Peter to sleep_.

Rhodey wasn't sure how to process that information.

It was obvious that Tony was already attached to the little guy, as he should be, but Rhodey was still a little baffled by how easy it seemed to be for Tony to switch between being “Tony” and being... “Dad”.

Waaaaaaait a minute. That was definitely not the English language coming out of Tony's mouth. It was, however, a familiar tune.

“ _Brilla, brilla, una stellina, su nel cielo piccolina_ -”

Rhodey's heart melted a little bit. He hadn't heard Tony speak Italian since his mother died when he was a teenager. Something about having Peter must have brought back Tony's love of the language. And now he was singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” to his son in it.

Inside the bedroom, Tony whispered “Sweet dreams, buddy” to Peter, and Rhodey figured that meant he was wrapping up the nap time routine, so he hurried back to the living room before Tony could see him standing out in the hall.

Tony joined him a few seconds later, flopping onto the couch with a heavy sigh, his eyes closed.

Rhodey couldn't resist. “'Twinkle, Twinkle', huh? In Italian, right?”

Tony cracked one eye open and looked at Rhodey, unamused.

“Don't look at me like that,” Rhodey said, rolling his eyes. “It's cute, Tones.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “It's not _cute_ , it's to make Peter fall asleep, I've done Elton John songs, too-”

Rhodey laughed so hard he snorted, and Tony hit him with a paperback book that was lying nearby, hissing at him to shut up before he woke Peter.

\---

Peter was more relaxed about Rhodey's presence after he'd had his nap. He even allowed Rhodey to hold him again, for a longer period of time.

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot,” Rhodey said suddenly, looking up from where Peter was lying in his lap and staring up at the ceiling contently. “I brought presents.”

Tony's face widened in a teasing grin. “What, are you going to be that uncle that spoils my kid rotten every chance he gets?”

Rhodey looked him straight in the eye. “Hell yeah, I am.”

Rhodey passed Peter back to Tony and stood up, leaving the room for a minute.

“I was joking, you know,” Tony called after him. “I can do that myself.” He looked down at Peter. “I don't think he's going to listen to me.”

“What's the point in having a ridiculous military salary if I can't use some of it to spoil my new nephew?” Rhodey said as he came back, carrying a gift bag with tissue paper sticking out of the top.

Tony stared at the bag critically. “He's a week old, were you expecting him to appreciate the presentation? Oh my god, is that _glitter_?”

Rhodey considered this. “No, the packaging was just for dramatic effect,” he admitted. He offered the bag to Tony. “Go ahead then, _Dad_ ,” he teased.

Tony squinted at him. “Don't do that, that's weird,” he said.

“Just open the bag, Tony.”

Tony adjusted his hold on Peter to free one arm and pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, then peeked inside. He lifted an eyebrow and looked back at Rhodey.

“You thought _I_ was being cute earlier?” he said. He pulled the platypus plushie out of the bag. “What do you call _this_ , then?” He waved it under Rhodey's nose for emphasis.

Rhodey was smirking, his arms crossed over his chest. “ _Clever_ ,” he replied. “That's what I call it.”

Tony offered the platypus to Peter. He seemed pretty uninterested for the time being.

“He'll appreciate it more when he can actually see more than a big colorful blob,” Tony said, setting the toy aside and looking into the bag again. “Oh my god, did you raid an Air Force gift shop?” The next several things he pulled out of the bag were baby clothes stamped with various Air Force slogans.

“He's gotta represent, Tones,” Rhodey said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Don't think I didn't notice the airplane shirt you put him in, that's not gonna cut it.”

“Oh, I was _hoping_ you'd notice the airplane shirt,” Tony said. “At long as you didn't get him dress blues- I jinxed it. I made the mistake of saying it out loud, and I jinxed it.” He pulled a set of baby-sized Air Force dress blues out of the bag and threw the hat at Rhodey, just because he could.

“You can't pretend you hate it, you told me you liked the dress blues, remember?”

“Yeah, when I was 18 and very drunk, platypus, there's a big difference between admitting it drunk and admitting it sober.”

“Is there?”

“Don't talk to me.”

\---

“Hey, honey bear, you wanna learn how to change a diaper?”

“Nice try, Tones.”

“Oh, come on, isn't that like the uncle experience or something-”

\---

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a similar fashion.

Rhodey was greatly amused when Tony put Peter down on the floor for a little bit more tummy time, then proceeded to lie down on his stomach in front of Peter and make faces at him in between keeping a conversation going with Rhodey.

It was a pretty normal conversation for them, too. They talked about work a little. Tony described some of the stuff he had been working on for the military before he had to make a mad dash to get to New York. Rhodey told stories about some new cadets he was training that made Tony full-on belly laugh for a long time. When Peter started getting fussy, Tony simply flipped him onto his front and kept making faces at him, occasionally playing idly with Peter's fingers or toes.

If Tony hadn't been so invested in the conversation, Rhodey would have assumed that he wasn't paying attention to anything except the little baby in front of him. (Of course, if that _had_ been the case Rhodey wouldn't have held it against him in the slightest, because Peter was the most adorable baby he had ever met, but Tony had always been a good multitasker when he wanted to be.) The entire time that he was on the floor with Peter, Tony didn't look away from his kid once, and when he talked it almost looked and sounded like he was talking to _Peter_ instead of Rhodey. His voice adopted a more gentle tone that could definitely not be described as baby talk, but wasn't in the same range as a normal speaking voice either. It was almost like Tony had created a “Designated Peter Voice” that he subconsciously slipped into when he was interacting with the baby.

Rhodey wondered if he should start a tally of how many times he would use the word “cute” while he was staying with Tony and Peter.

\---

Tony and Rhodey talked a little more after Tony put Peter down for the night, but after a while they resorted to turning on a bad soap opera and taking turns making fun of it. They were in the middle of watching an overdramatic confession scene when Peter started wailing from the other room.

Tony was up and out of the living room before Rhodey could even react, dashing to his bedroom to check on Peter. Rhodey followed, partly out of concern, because even to his inexperienced ears that didn't sound like a “hungry” cry or a “full diaper” cry; it just sounded miserable. The other part was just curiosity at the prospect of seeing his best friend's new “dad skills” in action.

Rhodey got to Tony's room just as Tony was lifting Peter out of the travel crib. He leaned against the doorway to observe; Tony hadn't seen him yet, too focused on the upset baby in his arms to notice anything else.

“Hey, what are you fussing about now?” Tony asked softly, swaying gently in place and holding Peter as close as possible. “You ate, you're clean.” He smiled softly. “You just missed me, huh? Is that it? You got lonely?”

Tony kept talking to Peter, moving on from swaying in place to walking around the room like he had done earlier, except this time his sole focus was the little baby in his arms. He didn't have anyone else to impress. For all Tony knew, Rhodey was still in the living room.

“Well, Dad's here, Pete, you're ok, I've got you.” Tony said. “Go back to sleep, buddy, I can see you fighting it.”

Rhodey jerked slightly. In the entire time he had been there, Tony had not once referred to himself as “dad”. He figured it was probably still new enough to Tony that he was keeping it personal for a while, and he understood that. As jarring as it was, though, it was pretty sweet, even an “Air Force tough guy” like himself could admit that.

After a few more minutes of Tony walking around, alternating between rocking and bouncing Peter gently, he slowed to a stop and smiled. It was the most dopey “I'm in love with this tiny human” smile Rhodey had ever seen on a person.

“There you go,” Tony whispered. He lifted Peter up higher so he could kiss the top of his head, then carefully moved the sleeping baby back into the crib. “Good night, little man.”

Rhodey decided not to mention that he had watched, this time. He could tell he had just witnessed something special.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rhodey will be making more appearances in the future, so get ready for that! So far Peter tolerates him, but I really want them to bond a little bit, and I can't do that in just one chapter (even a longer chapter like this one, it was 8 and a half pages compared to my usual 6).


	5. Baby's First Plane Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is taking Peter back to Malibu! What could go wrong?
> 
> (Set in August 2001)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this isn't my favorite chapter I've ever written, mostly because I was starting to run out of "newborn peter" ideas but didn't want to skip the plane ride. I ended up reusing stuff from previous chapters, and it's good, but I'm excited to move on from newborn stuff and get to some bigger milestones!

Rhodey stayed at the penthouse with Tony and Peter until Saturday, a full week after Tony brought Peter home from the hospital. Pepper had stopped by during the week and (with some persistence) got Tony to settle on a good day to fly back to Malibu, since that was where he preferred to live most of the time, so on Saturday afternoon Tony and Rhodey stood in the middle of Tony's living room surrounded by suitcases and portable baby furniture.

Tony felt disgruntled, although that was partly because Peter had had a rough night and kept Tony awake for a lot of it. At first it was wheezing, then it was a diaper change, and then he had just been inexplicably _fussy_ every time Tony tried to put him down, more so than usual, so Tony had slept sitting up on the couch with Peter on his chest and he felt it in every bone of his body when he woke up. Rhodey came out of the guest room at 7 in the morning to see Peter wide awake where he lay chest to chest with Tony, looking a little wired but not upset in the slightest. Tony didn't wake up until Rhodey was halfway done making breakfast, a bottle ready to go for Peter.

Rhodey surveyed the chaos. “Is Pepper expecting us to carry this stuff down to the car ourselves?”

Tony grumbled. “She'd better not.” He was going to have his hands full with Peter, who was perfectly content to sit in his car seat for now, but Tony had a sneaking suspicion that as soon as he got any further away from it than he currently was, Peter would have an opinion about it.

Fortunately for all of them, Pepper brought Happy and a couple of moving dollies up to the penthouse with her when they arrived, and between the two of them and Rhodey, they managed to stack everything in a way that they could take it down to the car without too much inconvenience.

“If you didn't have your own plane this would be a living nightmare,” Happy pointed out to Tony, who was a little distracted watching Peter and didn't answer.

\---

The ride to the airport was uneventful. Peter fell asleep, actually, which was good because it made it easier to get him on the plane. Tony took him out of the car seat once they were on board, and the plane staff helped Happy unload the car.

Pepper sat across from Tony. “How do you think he'll do?” she asked quietly, nodding to the sleeping baby in his arms. “Babies are notorious for hating planes.”

Tony winced, remembering the very few times he had been on a commercial plane with regular people and their babies. “I'm basking in the calm before the storm, Miss Potts, I'd rather not think about that yet.”

Pepper seemed to think that was fair so she got up and went to check on a few things before the plane took off.

Tony looked down at Peter, who was still sleeping, making the snuffling noises that Tony was really starting to love listening to.

“Please don't make this trip too hellish, kid,” he whispered, adjusting the little hat on Peter's head and stroking a soft baby cheek with his finger.

\---

Unfortunately, Peter woke up abruptly after the plane had gained a little altitude, probably because his ears had popped, and he was _not happy about it_. As soon as it was safe to, Tony unbuckled himself from the plane seat and started walking up and down the cabin with Peter, trying to soothe his wailing.

“I know, buddy, popped ears hurt like hell,” Tony said, “but please stop crying.” He glanced around the cabin. The only other people in there now were Happy, Pepper, and Rhodey, although, Happy was starting to look like he regretted even getting on the plane in the first place, scowling as he clamped a pair of headphones over his ears. The stewardesses and few other staff members had been scared off by the noise Peter was making. Tony didn't really blame them; the cries of an uncomfortable infant felt like the loudest thing in the world sometimes.

“Maybe we should have picked up a pacifier before we left,” Pepper mused as Tony passed. “Do you think he would take one?”

Tony shrugged, bouncing Peter in his arms and alternating between rubbing and patting his tummy.

“Maybe you should try singing to him,” Rhodey suggested innocently.

Tony glared at him.

“You sing to him?” Pepper turned to Tony, clearly surprised.

Tony shifted awkwardly. “Sometimes.”

“Every night.” Rhodey fake-coughed around the words and Tony glared at him harder.

“You're fired,” Tony complained.

“I don't work for you,” Rhodey pointed out, grinning.

“That's sweet, Tony,” Pepper said.

“Not- it's- whatever,” Tony said, shifting Peter to rest against his shoulder. “I'm not going to sing to him, we're on a plane full of people, nobody needs to hear that.”

“ _Peter_ might need to hear it,” Rhodey pointed out, gesturing to Peter, who had stopped screaming but was now whimpering and nuzzling Tony's shoulder, leaving tear stains on his jacket.

Tony looked down at Peter's face. The little guy's cheeks were damp with fresh and old tears, and he was gumming sadly on Tony's jacket collar in between high-pitched whines. A sharp pang went through Tony's chest at the sight, and he turned his head to kiss Peter's scrunched-up face briefly.

“All right,” he murmured, more to Peter than anyone else. He walked over to a seat as far away from the others as he could get and sat down.

Tony tried to think of something he could sing that he hadn't already done a few times. He felt like he had exhausted all the Italian lullabies he could remember and most of his soft rock artillery, and he was running out of ideas.

He remembered watching Disney movies when he was a kid, and liking some of the songs so much that one of his nannies (the one that actually cared) would take the time to learn a few to sing to him at night. The Italian lullabies were from his mother, the Disney songs were from that nanny.

He had liked that nanny. Howard had fired her for being “too lenient” (letting Tony get away with insignificant misdemeanors with little more than a gentle reprimand), but while she had been around Tony remembered being decently happy.

Tony shifted in the plane seat until his back was against the wall and his legs were propped up on the seat next to him. He shuffled Peter down to rest against his chest and stomach instead of on his shoulder.

 _Baby mine, don't you cry_  
_Baby mine, dry your eyes_  
_Rest your head close to my heart_  
_Never to part  
_ _Baby of mine_

By the time Tony had gotten through the only verse he could fully remember, Peter's snuffling noises had returned and his teary eyes had slid closed.

\---

Rhodey and Pepper were tactfully not saying anything about Tony's singing. Rhodey had told him earlier in the week that he actually thought Tony had a nice voice, although his well-meaning comment had really only served to embarrass Tony (not that Rhodey minded embarrassing him in the slightest). Tony didn't think Happy had actually heard him; he was almost positive he had heard very loud rock music leaking through Happy's headphones.

Peter woke up again not too long after nodding off, but now that he had gotten over his ears popping he was a much better passenger. He let Tony pass him to Rhodey for a while, even let Tony leave the cabin to take a much-needed bathroom break. When Tony came back, Peter was still perfectly happy, sitting on Rhodey's lap with his back propped against Rhodey's arm. Rhodey was doing a crossword puzzle one-handed.

Tony figured Peter was in good hands for now, and went to join Pepper and Happy. Pepper had her laptop on the flip-out table in front of her and she was typing away on whatever work she had that didn't require an internet connection. Happy had a _National Geographic_ magazine and seemed to be falling asleep over it.

Pepper looked up momentarily when Tony sat down. “Peter seems like he's feeling better.”

“Yeah, he does,” Tony agreed.

“How are you doing?”

Tony was a little taken aback by the question. “I'm... fine...? How are you? Is this some sort of test?”

“I meant with the whole 'having a child' thing,” Pepper said, her tone implying that she would miss not having to deal with him very much during the last week. “How are you handling it?”

Tony hesitated. That was bordering uncomfortably on _emotional discussion_ territory. “I'm fine,” he repeated slowly.

Pepper rolled her eyes but didn't press further.

“Hey, Tones, I think Peter needs a change,” Rhodey called out.

“You could do it, you know,” Tony shot back.

“Nuh uh, man, I've seen how he gets when _you_ do it, I don't want to deal with that.”

Tony sighed and got up to relieve Rhodey of his kid.

\---

Around 4pm California time the plane started it's descent. It was obvious when Peter's ears popped again, because he started crying after being quiet and content for an hour and a half.

There wasn't a lot Tony could do this time, since he was securely strapped to his seat. All he could do was hold Peter and tell him it was almost over.

“Just ten more minutes, Petey, just a little bit longer,” Tony said, rubbing Peter's back and leaning his head back against the plane seat. He was quickly deciding that Peter's tears soaking through both his jacket and his t-shirt was one of his least favorite feelings in the world, not because it was uncomfortable (although it was), but because it meant that he had tried everything he could but hadn't managed to make Peter feel better.

God, how maternal was that?

Tony hummed under his breath while the plane landed, rolling across the runway to a stop in it's usual spot in the private section of the tarmac. He was itching to get off the plane and get Peter home so he could go all out with every comfort technique he knew and no need to feel awkward about anybody watching him, because there wouldn't be anybody else there.

A week ago he floundered when Pepper left him alone with Peter for the first time. Now he was looking forward to it.

Tony felt a weird mixture of happiness and irritation when he saw that his mentor and partner, Obadiah Stane (“Obie” for short because Obadiah is an unnecessary mouthful) was waiting on the tarmac when the plane door opened and let it's passengers and staff out.

Tony was glad he had loaded Peter back into his car seat, despite Peter's squalling protests, because Peter probably wouldn't have enjoyed becoming the middle of an uncomfortable hug sandwich.

“Tony, it's good to see you again,” Obie greeted cheerfully. “How's domestic life treating you?”

Tony still didn't know how to answer that question. “Good to see you too, Obie,” he deflected.

Obie leaned down to look at Peter in the car seat. Peter was still crying pitifully, but while it tugged at Tony's heartstrings, Tony thought he saw a look of distaste flicker across Obie's features before he smiled again, this time maybe a little forced.

“A handsome boy you've got,” Obie said, straightening and adjusting his suit coat, as though Peter had somehow messed it up just by being within five feet of it. “Your new primary beneficiary, I presume?”

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had just returned home after two weeks, with a brand new baby, and of course the first thing Obie wanted to talk about was business and changing Tony's will.

“Obie, let's talk about that later, shall we?” Tony said, trying to keep his tone polite. It still sounded clipped, even to him. “I just took a 4 hour flight with a newborn kid, neither of us are in very good moods right now.”

Obie started to protest, but Tony started walking.

“And, of course, by 'we'll talk later' I mean you can talk to _Pepper_ later, because I am on...” He paused, looking for the right word. “Vacation” was the wrong one. He thought back to what Pepper had said. “Maternity leave. Good talk, bye Obie.”

Obie called after him, but Tony ignored every word. He appreciated his partner, he really did, but dear god, the man had a one-track mind at the best of times, tunnel vision at the worst.

\---

Happy drove Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, and Peter to their requested destinations. He took Pepper to SI, because she had a lot of work to do, despite being at the New York offices all week. He drove Rhodey to the air base, and then drove Tony and Peter home. He even helped Tony unload all the baby stuff... aka, unloaded it for him: Peter decided he had waited long enough for Tony to get him out of his car seat, so as soon as his car seat was on the floor of the mansion's living room, he kicked up a big fuss and Tony had to drop the other thing he was holding (his haphazardly packed suitcase) to sort Peter out.

Happy dropped the last of Peter's stuff in the living room, made his excuses, and let himself out while Tony soothed Peter. Tony absently said goodbye, the majority of his attention on his fussy baby.

“Welcome home, sir,” JARVIS said after a brief moment, during which the only sound in the entire house was Peter starting to hiccup from crying and Tony hushing him gently, holding him against his chest the way Peter seemed to like the best.

“Good to be back, JAR,” Tony murmured, his whole body relaxing as Peter stopped crying, leaving only the tiny hiccups behind, which were just cute.

Tony looked around the living room of his mansion. He had always liked how big it was, but despite that it had always felt a little empty. He looked down at Peter, who had calmed completely and was resting with his head over Tony's heart.

“Welcome home, Peter,” Tony said quietly.

The house didn't feel so empty, anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends the one-right-after-the-other newborn stuff! I can't wait to write some of the bigger milestones, it's gonna be so cute. They're going to be more spaced out in terms of chronology, but as far as posting goes, I'll probably still be pretty consistent, unless something just takes a super long time to write.
> 
> I finished this at like 2am and like I said, it's not my favorite, but I like it enough to post it.
> 
> Uhhhhh can you tell I hate Obie? Because I do. I hate him.


	6. Baby's First Smile (and Laugh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh my god,” Tony whispered. “Peter, oh my god. Did you just smile at me?”
> 
> Peter looked at him with wide, bright eyes, and blew a spit bubble, but otherwise didn't react.
> 
> (Set in October 2001)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm this was kind of hard to write, especially the beginning, because I wasn't sure how much filler was TOO MUCH filler, but I like the finished result, so I hope you do too!
> 
> This is another kinda short one, but better short and sweet than long and full of irrelevant waffling, in my opinion.

It had been a couple months since Tony returned to Malibu, brand new baby in tow.

Peter had grown quite a bit, but he was still really small. According to the regular check-ups with the pediatrician Tony and Pepper had researched and picked out, it was normal for preterm babies, and as long as everything else about Peter was fine, his small size didn't really matter.

(Tony also asked about the wheezing. That was normal too, but the doctor told him not to be surprised if it developed into childhood asthma later.)

Most days consisted of Tony staying home with Peter, sneaking workshop sessions while Peter napped, setting JARVIS to alert him when Peter was awake. They had a good system so far. When Peter was awake, Tony spent all his time upstairs looking after him.

A fun thing Peter had started doing, also not long after returning to Malibu, was smiling. Apparently it was just reflex, but it was still one of the cutest damn things Tony had ever seen. Even though it wasn't a reaction to anything, he loved watching every time the gummy smile made an appearance that got Peter's squishy cheeks to somehow look squishier. Tony had started kissing Peter more and more frequently, and every little smile earned him another one, directly on his squishy little face.

(If the _reflex_ smiles were this adorable, Tony couldn't wait for Peter's first real one.)

\---

“Sir, Peter has woken up from his afternoon nap,” JARVIS said.

Tony was in the workshop trying to catch up on some work stuff. Obie had been breathing down his neck about something the military wanted for a couple of weeks, now, and even though Tony had specifically said it would take some time to work out the schematics of it, he was still being hounded to crank something out. It didn't really work like that, but evidently Obie didn't seem to understand that.

Tony looked up. “Is he crying?”

“Not yet, sir.”

That was good. That meant Tony could take a few minutes and clean up his work space a little bit before going to check on Peter. He did so quickly, leaving his current project out but straightening the mess he always managed to spread across every nearby surface when he worked.

After he finished cleaning up he checked again. “Crying yet, JAR?”

“No, sir. But he is getting restless.”

Tony went upstairs to his bedroom, which was still where he kept Peter's crib, anyway. He entered quietly so he wouldn't alert Peter to his presence too quickly, since that usually made Peter get fussier faster, and changed into clean clothes. Sweaty, greasy clothes weren't ideal for taking care of a baby.

Almost as soon as Tony was dressed, Peter started making “if you leave me in this crib for five more seconds I'm literally going to scream” noises.

“Just in time,” Tony muttered, and went to stand by the crib and lean over Peter. “Hey, buddy,” he said. “Have a good nap?”

Peter stopped fussing and switched to the kind of kicking that came with being in a good mood. Tony smiled. “That's better, no fussing necessary.” He reached in and put a hand on Peter's tummy to rub at it playfully, a motion he had started doing recently that fell somewhere in between normal rubbing and light tickling but wasn't quite either one.

Peter's face lit up with a smile so quickly that it surprised Tony more than he had expected it to, his hand quickly snapping from Peter's tummy to the crib rail and grabbing on.

“Oh my god,” Tony whispered, staring at the gummy smile as long as it lasted, which wasn't a super long time, but long enough to commit to memory. He laughed breathlessly. “ _Peter_ , oh my _god_.” He reached back into the crib and lifted Peter out, holding him so that he could see his face straight-on. “Did you just _smile_ at me?”

Peter looked at him with wide, bright eyes, and blew a spit bubble, but otherwise didn't react.

Tony held him a little closer, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Don't suppose you could do that again?”

More spit bubbles.

Tony shrugged and went to his own bed, gently plopping Peter down in the middle of it and lying on his side next to him. “I'm gonna get you to smile again before the day is over,” he said.

Peter looked up at him like he was waiting for something. Maybe he was waiting to see if Tony was right. Maybe he was just two and a half months old and had a tendency to stare at things that were right in front of his face.

Tony spent a good half hour trying to get Peter to smile at him again, with no success. Peter got hungry after that so Tony figured he might as well give up. If that had been a real smile, it would happen again.

\---

A couple days later, Tony had just about convinced himself that that first smile was a fluke, because it hadn't happened again since.

Peter was just finishing up some tummy time. He had worked his way up to 15 minutes over the last couple months, and he still seemed to love it. Tony's favorite part was watching Peter's little legs kick at the carpet while he sucked on his own hand.

Tony, who had grown accustomed to lying down on the floor with Peter during tummy time, sat up just enough to pick Peter up off the floor and put him back down again, this time on his back, before settling down on his elbows to hover over Peter and grin down at him. He had given up on coaxing another smile out of his kid, but while he had been trying he at least discovered a few more things that were _extremely_ fun. Blowing raspberries on Peter's tummy, for example.

This wasn't a new one, but he had also taken to poking or holding one or more of Peter's hands or feet, tracing the little creases in them or rubbing them with his thumb, particularly when Peter wasn't wearing something footed. Before Tony could do any of that now, however, he was once again thrown for a loop.

Peter had been looking at something off to his left, probably absolutely nothing since he still couldn't see very far away yet, but as Tony settled over him he looked up.

“Hey, buddy,” Tony said, running a finger down Peter's cheek softly.

Peter broke into an even bigger smile than the first one, his mouth open and his toothless gums on display. Tony's eyes went wide, suddenly desperately wishing he had a camera on him. He leaned over to kiss Peter on the cheek.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Apparently Peter wasn't done with the surprises yet, because he let out a shrill sound that had Tony jerking back to stare at him. The shrill part of the noise quickly subdued, leaving room for something that sounded a lot more like a giggle.

Tony hadn't been left speechless very often before he had Peter. Now he found himself gaping at the little baby, who was beaming up at him and giggling at seemingly nothing.

“Peter,” Tony whispered, a smile breaking out across his own face. “I love you. I love you _so much_ , baby. Dad loves you. Look at that smile.” He thought he might be tearing up a little bit, but he ignored it, sitting up and scooping Peter into his arms to hold him close.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's crying, I'm almost crying, how are you doing after that?
> 
> (I know this is the first time Tony's said he loves Peter in the story, but just assume he's said it before during the two months of time skip dfjsh)


	7. Baby's First Press Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That went well,” Pepper said. “You read the cards, and you didn't get mad.”
> 
> “Oh, no, I got mad.”
> 
> (Set in November 2001)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm posting this at the end of my Thanksgiving day! I wasn't going to post at all today, but I couldn't wait any longer, I've been sitting on this chapter for a day and a half.

“I don't like this,” Tony said, holding Peter against his chest protectively.

“Nobody likes it, Tony, but if we don't do it now he's going to grow up surrounded by wildly incorrect speculations and I can promise you that you'll like _that_ even less,” Pepper said, flipping through the note cards she had prepared for Tony to read once more before handing them over to him. “Just read the cards, don't get mad at anybody, and if you absolutely _can't_ follow either of those rules...” She paused. “Don't use too many swear words. And _definitely_ don't punch anyone.”

“I make absolutely no promises,” Tony huffed, eyeing the door to the conference room suspiciously.

“I don't expect you to anymore,” Pepper sighed, probably resigned to the fact that she was working for, in Rhodey's words, “a huge f*ing drama queen”. “Now go, Obie just announced you.”

Tony steeled himself before pushing the door open with one hand and walking out in front of the crowd.

People got excited as soon as they saw him, but once they realized he was holding a baby, they went absolutely nuts, all starting to talk at once, asking questions and snapping pictures. Peter whimpered at the sudden eruption of sound filling his sensitive ears, and he hid his face in Tony's jacket.

A surge of protectiveness pushed Tony to take Obie's place at the podium faster, holding up his free arm to signal for everyone to shut up.

“Clearly most of you have never been around a baby before, and the ones who have don't care, because not a single one of you seems to have any respect for tiny, underdeveloped eardrums,” he snapped into the microphone, already breaking the first two rules Pepper had given him. He could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

 _Sorry, Pepper, Peter's comfort is a priority_.

The room faded into near silence quickly. Tony nodded in satisfaction and smoothed his hand over Peter's head soothingly, before collecting himself and digging Pepper's cards out of his pocket.

“I'm sure you all have questions about the topic of this conference,” he read, projecting his voice across the room and hoping he didn't sound too annoyed. “I would like to be the first to introduce you to my son, Peter Stark. He's three months old, and he's been in my care since he was born.”

The room filled with voices again, loud at first, but when Tony glared at them most of them either stopped talking or lowered their volume to a hushed stage whisper.

Tony looked at the next card. “Before you ask questions, I would like to say a few things. The first being this: After today, stories that invade Peter's privacy will not be printed, until he's old enough to decide for himself whether or not he wants a spotlight.”

A few people muttered, obviously annoyed, but Tony pressed on, raising his voice slightly, but not enough to make the squirmy baby in his arms more uncomfortable than he already was.

“If anyone on my team sees anything that I didn't give explicit permission to be published, anything that we were not made aware of, we will sue you and your employer for everything you're worth.”

Most of the reporters looked like they were sucking on lemons.

Next card.

“Peter and I are not going to hole up in the house for the rest of our lives. We will go out in public, and if we do, we ask that you leave us alone.” That was the last card, so he put them down. “Questions?”

Several hands went up. Tony pointed to someone in the middle. “You, with the funny hat.”

“How did you acquire him?”

Tony knew what he meant, but he had to be annoying about it. “I'm sure I don't need to explain how babies are made.” He enjoyed the look on the reporter's face before answering for real. “The mother, who will remain anonymous, came to me in April and we came to an agreement. She wasn't in a position where she could keep the baby, and because the foster system in this country is terrible, I agreed that, when he was born, I would take him myself.” He looked down at Peter, who was resting heavily against Tony's shoulder, still obviously seeking comfort that Tony was more than willing to provide. “Best decision I ever made.”

Tony hated how formal he was forced to be during these press conferences. He would have loved to say, _None of your beeswax, buzz off_ , in a less polite way, but that would have gotten him in trouble with PR. And Pepper.

He was, quite frankly, more scared of Pepper.

Another reporter raised her hand. “Is it safe to assume that this baby is the result of a careless one night stand? A mistake?”

Tony's face hardened. “ _My son_ is not a mistake,” he said through gritted teeth, “and if anyone says that again they won't be able to find another job in journalism for the rest of their lives.” He could almost hear Pepper's voice in his head telling him to calm down, so he took a breath.

“There's a huge difference, from the opinion of an inventor, between a mistake and an accident. A mistake can ruin everything, but an accident could lead to the best thing he's ever created.” He was about to say the most sappy thing he had ever, or would ever, say, but it needed to be said. Someday Peter might find out about this press conference, and Tony wanted him to only hear good things.

He shifted Peter so that he was facing the crowd a little more. “Peter,” he said confidently, “is the result of an _accident_ , not a _mistake_ , and he _is_ , without question, the greatest thing I have ever, _will_ ever, be able to say I had a hand in creating.”

In college Rhodey told Tony about a hundred times to “quit while he was ahead”. He never listened back then, but he figured it was better late than never. He stepped away from the podium, despite the crowd's protests, and went back to the room off the side, leaving Obie to deal with the vultures.

Pepper didn't look terribly displeased with him when he stepped inside, maybe even a little proud, so he guessed he must not have been too awful.

“That went well,” she said. “You read the cards, and you didn't get mad.”

“Oh, no, I got mad,” Tony grumbled.

Pepper smiled in understanding. “Well, you didn't cause chaos or a mutiny, so you're free to go. Go home, play with Peter. And _relax_ , you look like you might still commit murder if someone crosses your path on the way out.”

She probably wasn't wrong.

\---

Tony closed the front door behind him and locked it, leaning against it for a moment with his eyes closed, holding Peter close.

“Welcome home, sir,” JARVIS said. “How was the press conference?”

Tony groaned, pushing away from the door and heading to the living room. He propped Peter against a couple of couch cushions long enough to shrug out of his suit coat, then scooped him back up and flopped onto the couch.

Tony pulled his legs up and propped Peter against them. Peter had three of his own fingers in his mouth and stared at Tony with wide eyes. Tony brushed a finger against Peter's soft cheek, then leaned forward enough to press a kiss to the little bare foot that sat on his chest inches from his face.

Peter broke into one of his million dollar toothless smiles that never failed to improve Tony's mood, squealing at the ticklish scratchy feeling of Tony's facial hair.

Tony grinned in response and ran a hand over Peter's hair. “Thank you, Petey,” he said. “I needed one of those smiles.” Peter kicked happily against Tony's palm for a moment, still smiling.

Tony kept stroking Peter's fuzzy hair as he continued talking. “That was your first press conference, kiddo, and hopefully your last one for a really long time.” He made a face. “If it were up to me, we wouldn't have done it at all. I'm glad I got to say what I did, though.” He lifted Peter away from his legs to settle him chest to chest. “You're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm going to make sure you always know that.” He looked down at his baby and laughed. “Even when you drool on my expensive, fancy shirts,” he said, kissing the top of Peter's head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press conferences... are hard to write... seeing as I've never been to one. (I mean, I've never had a baby, either, just been around some, but apparently I'm doing ok writing Peter.)
> 
> I get a lot of the mushy cute fluff stuff from comments and Tumblr asks, like the "Tony kissing Peter's foot" thing, so if you want me to keep that Good Content coming I'd love to hear some more ideas! I keep a file.
> 
> I made a public Marvel-ish Instagram a couple days ago? I don't know if anyone is interested in that, since I mostly just use the story feature rather than actual posts, but I'm... kinda funny? Sometimes? So if anyone wants that, I posted the nametag on my Tumblr: https://riseuplikeglitterandgold.tumblr.com/post/180418201258/for-those-of-you-who-were-interested-in-my
> 
> If anyone ever wants me to tag them when I post these chapter links on Tumblr, let me know that, too.
> 
> Also, one more thing, I've had a couple of fics written for like two weeks now, set during the first couple of Iron Man movies with Kid!Peter instead of Baby!Peter. If I posted one of those before I finished the "Baby's Firsts" fic, would anyone mind that? I'm. Kind of proud of them. And I really want to share at least one.


	8. Baby's First Visit from "Grandma"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My mother is coming here for Christmas,” Rhodey said, bursting into Tony's workshop unannounced.
> 
> “Hi to you too, Platypus,” Tony huffed.
> 
> “Hi,” Rhodey said, then repeated slowly, “My mother. Is coming here. For Christmas.”
> 
> Tony was at a bit of a loss. “Why?”
> 
> Rhodey threw his arms up. “Gee, Tones, I don't know, maybe she wants to go to the beach, or maybe, just maybe, she hasn't seen me or you for more than a few hours at a time in about three years? And you've got a new kid that she hasn't met yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no chapter yesterday! I had started working on this one, but yesterday was Sunday so I had church, and I've got some pretty big social anxiety so I had a little bit of a panic attack there, and I went home early and read Hawaii Five-0 fanfic for like four hours.
> 
> I know the summary mentions Christmas, but this isn't actually a Christmas chapter! I'm making a separate "book" for Christmas stories, so "Baby's First Christmas" will actually be there, not here.

“My mother is coming here for Christmas,” Rhodey said, bursting into Tony's workshop unannounced.

Tony very nearly jumped and dropped a delicate piece of tech, but he managed not to. “Hi to you too, Platypus,” he huffed, setting it down carefully and looking up at Rhodey.

“Hi,” Rhodey said, then repeated slowly, “My mother. Is coming here. For Christmas.”

Tony hesitated. “Like, here, a hotel, or here... _here_?”

“Have you ever known my mother to stay in a hotel if she knows someone in town? Here, like either my apartment, or _here_ ,” Rhodey said, crossing his arms.

Tony was at a bit of a loss. “Why?”

Rhodey threw his arms up. “Gee, Tones, I don't know, maybe she wants to go to the beach, or maybe, _just maybe_ , she hasn't seen me or you for more than a few hours at a time in about three years? And you've got a new kid that she hasn't met yet?”

 _Ohhhhhh_ , that would explain it.

Roberta Rhodes had all but pseudo-adopted Tony as her own sad, strange, white child back when she first met him his freshman year of college. _Of course_ she was going to want to meet Tony's kid, and probably go off on some sort of motherly tangent that Tony would have to get emotional about in private later to avoid Rhodey's merciless teasing.

Actually, Tony was trying to keep himself from getting emotional just at the thought that Roberta wanted to come all the way from Pennsylvania to meet Peter. And see Rhodey, of course, because he was _actually_ her son, and Tony because she was a wonderfully strange woman that way, but it was probably mostly for Peter.

Tony took a breath and turned back to the tech he was working on. “Ok, so when's she coming?”

Rhodey at least had the decency to look apologetic. “Tomorrow?”

Tony shattered the tech out of pure shock.

\---

Rhodey insisted that Tony and Peter come with him when he picked Roberta up from the airport, so the next day they stood in a stuffy, crowded terminal, scanning the crowds to try to see her.

“This is awful, is this how airports always are?” Tony complained, holding Peter close to his chest and trying to avoid getting jostled.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Yes, Tony, for the majority of normal people who don't have a collection of private planes, this is the universal airport experience.”

“Ok, you're sounding a little judgy, Sour Patch, and I've gotta say it hurts a little-”

“Shut up, I think I see her.”

Tony looked where Rhodey was pointing, and, yep, that definitely looked like Roberta Rhodes, shuffling through the crowd, tugging a rolling suitcase behind her and carrying a purse that was big enough that it could probably be a lethal weapon if she wanted it to be.

Roberta had apparently spotted them, too, because she gasped and started walking faster. When she was close enough she called, “My boys! There you are!” When she was even closer, she dropped her bags (Tony's foot narrowly avoided being crushed by that purse) and pulled both Rhodey and Tony down into a double hug.

“Hi, Ma,” Rhodey said.

“Hi, Roberta,” Tony echoed. “I'd love to hug you back, but I've got some precious cargo here.”

Roberta gasped again and pulled back to look at the snuffly baby in Tony's arms. She cooed and stroked Peter's cheek, hair, and hands, until she finally gave in and held her arms out for him.

Tony handed Peter over, but felt obligated to warn her, “He gets pretty shy, just so you know.”

Roberta gave him a funny look, like he was being ridiculous, and pulled Peter into her arms. “There's my grandbaby!” she exclaimed. “Hello, sweetheart!”

Amazingly (but maybe not that surprisingly), Peter didn't cry even a little bit, despite Roberta being... well. Definitely _not_ Tony.

Tony must have looked as puzzled as he felt, because Roberta winked. “Grandma's touch,” she said, bouncing Peter gently and kissing the side of his head. “Aren't you the sweetest?” she added, looking at Peter and making a silly face at him. “Yes, you are.”

“Can we get your bags, Ma?” Rhodey asked, when Roberta made no indication of handing Peter back to Tony or grabbing her bags.

Roberta patted Rhodey's cheek and pulled him down to kiss him on the other. (Rhodey briefly made a face in Tony's direction while she couldn't see him. Tony tried valiantly not to laugh.) “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said. “I want to keep this little bug as long as I can.”

Tony considered pointing out that she had two weeks ahead of her to snuggle his baby, but he decided against it. (He also vaguely wondered if _he_ was going to be able to snuggle his baby at all over the next two weeks.)

\---

Possibly against his better judgment, Tony had decided that he would have Roberta _and_ Rhodey come stay with him and Peter for the next couple of weeks. He had plenty of room for both of them, and he still would even if Peter had his own bedroom (which he didn't, yet), and truth be told he hadn't been looking forward to another quiet Christmas. Peter would have made it a little more fun, but he and Rhodey hadn't gone up to Philadelphia for the holidays in years, and despite the Rhodes house being absolute chaos (amazing how loud such a small amount of people could get), Tony had missed it more than he was willing to admit.

Fortunately for Tony's back, Peter started getting fussy as they were pulling into the driveway, so Tony was able to weasel out of carrying Roberta's impressively heavy bags into the house (what did she even pack?) in favor of getting Peter out of the car and trying to figure out what was wrong this time.

(Turns out, Peter just wanted Tony. Tony had driven the car, so Peter hadn't seen him in a whole twenty minutes, apparently that was far too long.)

Rhodey could give Tony the evil eye as much as he wanted, Tony was not about to let his kid feel ignored. He knew what that was like, he didn't want Peter to, even for a few minutes.

Tony and Roberta settled on the couch while Rhodey dragged Roberta's bags to the room he and Tony had set up for her to stay in.

“All right, now why did I have to wait until now to meet my sweet grandbaby?” Roberta demanded, smacking Tony playfully on the shoulder with one hand, careful not to jostle the fussy baby in his lap.

“Well, Peter hates planes, and Rhodey hates road trips, so I didn't see too many other options,” Tony said, letting Peter get and maintain a hold on his thumb. “Sorry, Roberta.”

“Oh, that's ok, I'm just happy to be here now,” Roberta said, reaching over to stroke Peter's cheek again. Tony could understand the impulse; Peter had very soft, squishy cheeks. They both laughed when the gesture made Peter yawn. “You'd better get that baby to bed, young man.”

Tony shifted Peter so that he was a little more horizontal and rested a hand gently on his tummy. “Getting sleepy, buddy?” He watched Peter blink slowly. “Yeah, nap time.” he stood up, taking Peter with him. “I'll be back, Roberta, make yourself at home.”

“You know now that you've said that, she's never going to leave your kitchen,” Rhodey said, coming back from moving Roberta's bags.

Roberta swatted at Rhodey's leg as he sat down.

“If that's true, I wish her good luck finding anything to cook with,” Tony pointed out. “Now, I have a baby to put to bed.”

“Wait, wait, let me kiss him,” Roberta demanded, holding her arms out. “I haven't kissed him yet.” Tony obediently lowered Peter down to Roberta's level so she could plant a kiss on his forehead.

(Tony had to scrub lipstick off Peter's face before he could put him down for his nap.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love the headcanon that Rhodey brought Tony home for Christmas one year while they were in college, and Roberta took one look at this tiny, sad college baby and said "he's mine now", so that's why I wrote this chapter. And if you like Roberta, this isn't the last you'll see of her, so don't worry because this chapter is short. I wasn't sure how to make it longer without going into the actual Christmas stuff, and I'm saving that.


	9. And the Little One Said “Roll Over”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony was a little too stunned to do anything, at first. Peter had just rolled over. All by himself. For the first time ever.
> 
> “Oh my god,” Tony whispered. “JARVIS, did you see that?”
> 
> “Indeed, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!!! I know I'm posting this late again, but I had a horrible time trying to name this chapter. I have no other excuse, this was a really easy chapter to write, but a difficult one to name.

“Sir, Peter appears to be trying to roll over again,” JARVIS said suddenly, causing Tony to fumble and nearly drop the plate he was rinsing. He sighed and looked around, hand lingering near the camera he had bought a few months ago, just in case.

Peter had been doing his level best to roll over since around Christmas. He had yet to succeed, but he had gotten close once.

Tony went to stand at the edge of the living room, watching Peter closely. He had put the kid down on the rug for tummy time while he went to wash the dishes about fifteen minutes ago, and this was apparently the first time that morning that Peter had tried to do anything besides eat his own hand.

“Ok, kid, let's see what you've got,” Tony muttered to himself, waiting.

Peter wiggled around on the rug, pushing at the floor and grunting. This carried on for a couple of minutes before Tony figured it probably wasn't going to happen and started to turn around.

Almost as soon as Tony started moving, Peter let out a squeal. Tony whipped back around just in time to see Peter flip right onto his back. The impact caused Peter to squeak and huff, his eyes going wide with apparent surprise. Tony actually thought he looked a little scared, sort of like the time he had invited Rhodey over for Mexican food and Rhodey let rip a _really_ loud fart that had Tony in stitches of laughter between trying to get Peter to stop crying. (Rhodey wasn't nearly as amused as Tony had been.)

Tony was a little too stunned to do anything, at first. Peter had just rolled over. All by himself. For the first time _ever_.

“Oh my god,” Tony whispered. “JARVIS, did you see that?”

“Indeed, sir.”

Tony didn't have time to even think about taking a picture, because Peter, recovering from his surprise, started crying out of frustration, more squealing than sobbing. Tony bit back a snicker and went to rescue his kid.

He lifted Peter off the floor and held him so that the squealing baby could rest against his shoulder.

“You are such a drama queen,” Tony said, pressing a kiss to the side of Peter's head. “Seriously, the only person I know who's a bigger drama queen than you... is me. But, hey, you just did something pretty cool, kiddo.” He sat down on the couch and settled Peter in his lap so that he was sitting up (with assistance). “I don't know what you're so upset about, you've been working on that for weeks.”

Peter was working his lower lip like he wasn't sure if he wanted to commit to fully sticking it out. Tony poked it with one finger. “Cut that out, bud, you're fine,” he said, still trying desperately not to laugh. His stomach was actually shaking a bit from the effort. He lifted Peter higher to blow a raspberry against his cheek. Peter squealed again, this time in a happy way, and when Tony pulled back Peter was wearing one of those big smiles that he loved so much.

“There you go, it wasn't nearly as traumatic as you were trying to make it seem,” Tony teased. Peter kept smiling while also trying to put his hand back in his mouth. “You're silly, kiddo. I love you. And I'm proud of you.”

(Peter got over the apparent trauma of rolling over fairly quickly. That didn't stop Tony from telling Rhodey about it in detail the next time he called, although he had never felt more like a soccer mom in his life.)

\---

Peter graduated from rolling front to back pretty quickly. As soon as he got the hang of rolling back to front, he could roll for ages without stopping until he wore himself out. Rhodey had taken to calling him a roly poly. (“What is it with you and your mother, and calling my kid insect names?” Tony grumbled, chasing after Peter to catch him before he rolled under the coffee table.)

There was one incident in particular that brought Tony to the realization that if he wanted to leave Peter alone in a room for longer than half a second, he would have to buy a play pen to keep him from rolling right out the front door as soon as Tony's back was turned. (Obviously he couldn't _actually_ do that, but that wasn't important.)

Tony left Peter on the floor of the living room to go make a bottle for him in the kitchen. When he came back, Peter was nowhere to be seen.

“Peter?” Tony asked, alarm and dread flooding his mind. “Peter, bud, where'd you go?”

He knew, logically, that Peter couldn't answer, but he had been hoping the sound of his voice would cause Peter to make some sort of noise, at least. A giggle, or a frustrated grunt, if he had maybe gotten stuck somewhere. Nothing.

Tony put the bottle down on the coffee table. “Peter? JARVIS, where's Peter?”

“I have lost visual on him, sir,” JARVIS said, although despite being a disembodied AI voice, he managed to sound almost... amused?

Seriously, he thought this was funny? Tony couldn't find his kid, and his AI was laughing at him.

“You _lost visual_ , what does that even mean? You can see me, right, so where did you see Peter before you 'lost visual'? Huh?”

Tony looked behind the couch, down the hall, and in all the rooms with open doors. Peter couldn't have fallen down the stairs to Tony's workshop, thankfully, because Tony had set up a baby gate to block it off a few weeks ago.

“Where the hell is he?” Tony muttered, frowning as he went back to the living room. “Wait a minute...” He caught a glimpse of something red hidden in the shadows of the coffee table. He approached it and knelt down to peer underneath.

The red Tony had seen was Peter's foot, covered by a red footed onesie. Peter was right there, lying on his tummy, his face turned in Tony's direction. His cheek squished against the carpet, and he had edged his thumb into his mouth. He was _fast asleep_ , no wonder he hadn't made noise when Tony spoke.

Tony suddenly understood why JARVIS had been so amused, and why he hadn't thought Peter's disappearance was particularly urgent. He laughed quietly to himself.

“What the hell, kid,” he whispered, reaching under the coffee table to stroke a finger along the back of Peter's hand. “If you wanted to take a nap you could have made it a little more obvious. Now I've gotta get you out from under there.”

Peter would probably wake up if Tony tried to drag him out from under the table, not to mention the very real possibility of getting rug burn on his little face, which wouldn't be ideal. So that meant Tony would have to move the table.

“You like making things difficult for me, don't you?” Tony grunted, shoving at the coffee table carefully so as not to hit Peter with it or tip it over. Once it was out of the way, he gently rolled Peter onto his back and scooped him up to put him to bed in his crib.

He put Peter to bed, bottle long forgotten, and as an afterthought he spoke to JARVIS.

“Hey, JAR, buddy, next time Peter does that, for the love of god, _tell me_ , will you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the person on Tumblr who messaged me yesterday, because she gave me the absolutely hilarious inspiration for the second half of this, with Peter rolling under the coffee table. Apparently her son did that when he was a baby. She told me the story and said I could use it as an idea if I wanted, and it was absolutely perfect because this chapter was running WAY too short! It's still short, but it's much better than before. So, thank you!!!
> 
> (If anyone has title suggestions for the following, PLEASE feel free to tell me! They don't have to conform to the "Baby's First ___" format, anything could work.
> 
> -Sitting up  
> -Crawling  
> -Pulling up to stand  
> -Standing unassisted  
> (I already have a title for walking)
> 
> Thank you in advance for any suggestions!)


	10. Baby's First Solids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'Tony Stark goes to local supermarket to buy baby food',” Tony muttered under his breath. “You've turned me into a housewife, kiddo. If I ever get the urge to buy a feather duster, you're in big trouble.”
> 
> Set in early-mid February 2002  
> (Peter is six months old!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun one to write! It has some more of that "Tony complaining while shopping for baby stuff" content that everyone seemed to enjoy in the Babies "R" Us fic, so I hope you like this, too!

Tony regretted everything.

Well. Not _everything_. But this particular thing, he regretted a lot.

Tony squinted at the front of the grocery store from his seat behind the steering wheel of his car. “Pete, are you _sure_ you don't want to stick with bottles for another few months?” he asked in the direction of the back seat, entirely rhetorically. “I mean, just because you tried to grab my pizza a couple nights ago doesn't mean you were planning to eat it, right?”

Except Peter probably _had_ been planning to eat it, or at least put it in his mouth, because he was at the age now where the pediatrician told Tony he might start showing interest in solid foods, or getting hungrier than a bottle can easily fix.

Tony sighed, listening to Peter babbling nonsensically in his car seat, then got out of the car and went to get his kid so they could go inside.

“'Tony Stark goes to local supermarket to buy baby food',” Tony muttered under his breath, dislodging a shopping cart from a line of them one-handed and wheeling it in a half-circle to aim it at the door. “This time last year it was supermodel scandals and my drunk face plastered on the cover of every magazine in the country.” He looked down at Peter, who was sucking on two of his own fingers and staring wide-eyed at everything around him. “You've turned me into a housewife, kiddo. If I ever get the urge to buy a feather duster, you're in big trouble.”

Peter looked up at Tony, smiling around his fingers. Tony tried to look serious, but the cuteness got to him and he dropped a kiss on the top of Peter's head. “Maybe not _big_ trouble, then.”

Tony settled Peter into the shopping cart seat, buckling him in and using the blanket he had brought along as a mixture of padding and support, bunching it up and stuffing it into the negative space around Peter's little body. Once he was satisfied that Peter wasn't going to topple over (not that he thought he would; he had a feeling Peter was _extremely_ close to sitting up by himself), he pushed the cart inside.

Tony looked around the store. _If I were baby food, where would I be... Ah._ He pushed his cart down an aisle and scanned the shelves. _Bingo_.

Roberta had called and given Tony some suggestions when Rhodey mentioned to her during their weekly phone call that Peter was starting solids soon, so Tony glanced at the list he had scribbled on a Post-It note. It was a pretty vague list; fruit and vegetable purees, ground meat, baby cereal.

“Not a lot to go on,” Tony said to Peter. “I guess you'll have to tell me what looks interesting.”

He knew Peter couldn't actually _tell_ him, but he had recently discovered that if he held two things in front of Peter, Peter would occasionally reach for one over the other. And, yeah, maybe Peter didn't know the difference between sweet potatoes and broccoli yet, but Tony still wanted him to feel included.

Tony pulled two different types of baby cereal off a shelf and offered them to Peter. “What do you think, Petey?”

Peter looked at the two containers, still sucking on his fingers. His free hand swatted at one of the cereals, so Tony put it in the cart, returning the other one to the shelf.

They carried on shopping this way until there was enough baby food in the cart to probably last until Peter's first birthday. Tony also grabbed a pack of ground meat, like Roberta had suggested, and one of those packs of tiny Cheerios cups. He didn't want to buy a big box unless Peter liked them, since he didn't really eat them himself. If Peter didn't like them, Tony could donate the leftover cups to a shelter, or something.

The cashier recognized Tony when he checked out. He fortunately didn't make a big deal out of helping Tony Stark buy groceries, but he did a very obvious double-take when he saw Peter, and all the baby food.

Tony was frankly a little surprised that the public was still surprised by Peter, after the press conference back in November and all the outings and trips to the doctor since then. He didn't say anything about it, though, choosing instead to just push the cart back to the car, put everything in the car (including Peter) and driving home.

\---

“Ok, let's try this,” Tony said, sitting down in a kitchen chair in front of the new high chair he had bought the other day. He put a bowl of warm (not hot) pureed peas down on the high chair tray in front of Peter, who looked down at the green mush with something like mild interest in his big brown eyes.

“What do you think, does that look as disgusting to you as it does to me?” Tony asked, stirring the peas with the tiny baby spoon a little bit.

Peter reached a hand out to bat at Tony's, apparently more interested in the spoon than the food.

“Well, it's no pizza, but how about you give it a try anyway,” Tony suggested, gently moving Peter's hand out of the way and picking up some pea mush on the spoon. He held it up to Peter's mouth. “I'm not doing airplane noises, I'm warning you in advance. You don't like airplanes, anyway, it would probably freak you out if I did.”

Peter stared at the spoon long enough for Tony's arm to get tired, so he tapped the spoon gently against Peter's mouth. “This goes in _there_ , bud, and then you swallow the green stuff, it's not that complicated. You don't even have to worry about chewing, since you don't have teeth.”

After a little more tapping, Peter got the message and opened his mouth. There was barely enough space to wedge the spoon in, but Tony managed, then he removed the spoon and sat back to watch Peter's reaction.

Much to Tony's amusement, when he took the spoon out of Peter's mouth, his mouth remained open for a while. He didn't seem to know what to do with the peas, other than let them sit on his tongue long enough for his drool to turn green and start leaking down his chin. Tony wiped his kid's face with a soft cloth, closing Peter's mouth with a gentle finger under his chin.

“You're already halfway there, Pete, you might as well swallow so that we can actually say you're eating solid foods now,” Tony pointed out.

Peter looked down at the peas still in the bowl, and finally his mouth started moving. Tony had no idea what he was doing, but the look on his face while he was doing it was kind of cute, so he reached across the kitchen counter to grab his camera and snapped a picture.

It took a ridiculously long time for Peter to actually swallow the not-even-a-mouthful of peas, and when he finally did he looked up with the most perplexed expression Tony had ever seen on him, and Tony couldn't help but burst out laughing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for chapter title suggestions for crawling and standing (assisted and unassisted, each with a separate chapter) if anyone has any more.


	11. Baby's First Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The card envelope was red, with a heart drawn in black pen in one corner and the words “To Daddy” printed neatly in the middle, probably in Pepper's writing. The gift didn't say anything, but since it was sitting underneath the card, Tony assumed it went with it. He looked up at Pepper suspiciously. “What is this?”
> 
> Pepper shrugged, not even trying to hide her smile now. “You'll have to find that out yourself,” she said, looking close to laughter.
> 
> (Set in February 2002; Peter's six months old)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this one! Not as much fun as I had writing the one that's set on Tony's birthday, but that's all I'm gonna say about it because I'm not going to post that one for a while, yet.

“... and then we put your hand here...” Pepper said, guiding Peter's paint-covered hand to the middle of the big cut-out heart. She held it in place for a few seconds, gently pressing down on each of his little fingers to make sure the paint on them transferred evenly, then lifted his hand off carefully and looked at the result. “Perfect! Look, Peter, that's your hand,” she said in satisfaction, lifting Peter into a standing position on her lap and pointing at the handmade card.

Peter looked down at it with little reaction.

Pepper giggled. “Well, at least Tony will probably be more impressed with it than you, which is really the whole point, so it's fine.” She looked up at Peter. “Oh, sweetie, don't put your fingers in your mouth until I clean you up,” she said, pulling his hand away from his face before he could suck on the paint. It was non-toxic finger paint, but it was still not meant to be eaten.

Pepper ran Peter's messy hand under the sink tap with a bit of soap to clean him up, leaving the card on the kitchen table to dry before she wrote on it. She took Peter into the living room and set him down on his play mat, where he was perfectly content to wiggle around and bat at the toys hanging over his head.

Tony had a meeting at SI, so Pepper had offered to babysit. It was the perfect opportunity to put together a Valentine's Day surprise for him “from” Peter. She had bought a cute little outfit for Peter earlier in the week, and then once Tony had left she changed the baby into it (he was getting less fussy about that, thankfully) and did an improvised mini photoshoot with him. She ended up with about twenty adorable photos to choose from (Peter was amazingly photogenic), but she would do that and get it printed later, because she also enlisted Peter's “help” in making the card to go with the gift.

Pepper watched Peter play for a while, then went to check on the card. It was dry, so she grabbed the pen she had brought and wrote what she had planned.

Satisfied with the card, she tucked it into the folder she brought with her and put it back in her purse for later, then went back to the living room to see what Peter was up to.

\---

A few days later, Pepper was back at Tony's house, this time under the pretense of needing to go over a few things with Tony that didn't require him to be at the offices. It was Valentine's Day, which Tony had not mentioned or acknowledged in any way, which was perfect for Pepper's plan.

Peter was in the room with them, playing on his play mat. Tony occasionally had to get up to chase him around the living room when he started rolling, but otherwise he didn't cause too many interruptions. Pepper was hoping he would get hungry soon, though, so that Tony would leave the room and she could put her plan into effect.

Finally, after about an hour of talking about business things that didn't technically need to be looked over, Peter started fussing. Tony looked around at him, then checked the time. He gave Pepper a slightly apologetic, mostly relieved glance. “I need to go make a bottle for him, he sounds hungry.”

“Yeah, of course, go ahead,” Pepper said, maybe a little more quickly than she normally would. Tony looked a little puzzled, but got up and headed to the kitchen.

Show time.

Pepper got up from the couch and went to Peter, grabbing the wrapped gift and the card in a red envelope out of her purse. She put them within Peter's reach, situating him so that he was on his tummy and looking at them. He paid them little attention, hungry enough now that he had started gumming on his arm, but that was fine. Tony would still see them when he came back, as long as they were near Peter.

Pepper sat back on the couch just in time for Tony to come back, bottle in hand.

\---

“Ok, Petey, here we go-” Tony started, coming back into the living room and looking around the floor for Peter. He was lying on his tummy on the carpet, sucking on one hand, the other stretched out in front of him, patting at a neatly-wrapped present with what looked like a card sitting on top. “Whatcha got there, bud?” Tony crossed the room and knelt down next to Peter to inspect the items. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pepper covering her mouth with her hand like she was trying not to smile. Ah. This was her doing. Tony picked Peter up off the floor and settled him in his lap, offering him the bottle while he took a closer look at the stuff Pepper had left on the floor.

The card envelope was red, with a heart drawn in black pen in one corner and the words “To Daddy” printed neatly in the middle, probably in Pepper's writing. The gift didn't say anything, but since it was sitting underneath the card, Tony assumed it went with it. He looked up at Pepper suspiciously. “What is this?”

Pepper shrugged, not even trying to hide her smile now. “You'll have to find that out yourself,” she said, looking close to laughter.

Tony adjusted Peter on his lap so that he could open the card. Peter could sort of hold the bottle on his own, but Tony balanced the end of it on his wrist just in case, leaving his hand somewhat free to open the card.

Inside the envelope was a classic handmade valentine, a big heart cut out of red paper and trimmed with white paper that was carefully cut to look like lace. Tony saw the back first, which had “Happy Valentine's Day, 2002” written on it in the same neat printing as the envelope. He turned it over to see the front, and bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything embarrassing, or making an embarrassing noise, or even maybe crying. He leaned down and kissed the top of Peter's head as he looked at the card. He didn't look at Pepper, but he thought he heard a camera shutter.

The front had a little white paint hand print in the middle. The words “To Daddy” were written above it, and the words “Love Peter” underneath.

Tony looked up at Pepper, who was still smiling. “Did you do this?” he asked.

Pepper shrugged. “Let's say I helped Peter do it,” she said.

“Thank you,” Tony said sincerely.

Pepper gestured to the gift, which was still on the floor. “There's more,” she reminded him.

Tony inspected the gift. It was sort of flat, and through the paper felt sort of like a frame. He had a pretty good idea of what it was.

“For god's sake, Tony, quit _poking_ it, and just _open_ it,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes.

Tony chuckled and started removing the wrapping paper, which was white and dotted with tiny red hearts. “Nice wrapping,” he commented.

“Thank you,” Pepper said.

Tony got the paper off and was faced with the back of a picture frame. The top corner read “Valentine's Day, 2002” in the same writing as the card. He turned it over and his heart just about melted.

The picture looked like it had been taken in his bedroom, but it had an almost professional quality to it, with the lighting, and the angle, and the positioning. It was a simple but perfect shot of Peter, lying on his tummy on top of slightly rumpled white bedding, looking at something just off to the side of the camera, his mouth open, caught mid-giggle. Tony could hear the sound of it perfectly in his head as he looked at it. He vaguely wondered what Pepper had done to get him to laugh like that.

Tony looked up at Pepper slowly. “When did you do this?” he asked, even though he sort of knew.

“A few days ago,” Pepper confirmed. “That meeting at SI I made you go to wasn't actually important, I just needed some time with Peter to put this together. What do you think?”

Tony swallowed, looking between the photo and the card, and the baby in his lap draining the last few drops from his bottle. “It's perfect,” he admitted, taking the empty bottle out of Peter's hand and putting the gift and card back on the floor so he could hold his son closer. “Thank you, Pep.”

“Thank Peter, too,” Pepper said, her smile soft. “He's the reason I did it.”

Tony kissed the top of Peter's head again, smiling at the feeling of Peter's little hand closing around his thumb. “I love you, bubba,” he whispered into Peter's soft fuzzy hair. “Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be cute. It's always adorable when people help their babies make special Valentine's Day cards for their parents, and the photo present was actually based off of something my mom did with my sibling when they were a baby. She went and got their picture taken professionally, and gave the picture to my dad for Valentine's Day.


	12. Baby's First Sit-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ok, scale of one to ten, how much do you hate your new room?” Tony muttered, once again resting Peter against his shoulder and walking slowly around the room with no set pattern to the motion. “Because you're making it seem like a ten right now, and if that's true I spent time and money on it for absolutely nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's more of a drabble, but I hope you like it anyway. I just couldn't make it longer, no matter how hard I tried.

“And four songs later, are you gonna go to sleep now?” Tony asked, moving Peter away from his shoulder so he could put him in his crib. He put Peter down on his back, then stayed leaning over the crib for a minute, rubbing Peter's tummy gently. “What's got you so wired tonight, bub?”

Peter blinked slowly, like he was finally sleepy enough that he wasn't going to cry if Tony moved away from the crib, so Tony did, whispering a soft “good night” to him, moving to the door so he could go to his own bedroom – Peter had been sleeping in his own room for about a week, and there were clearly some adjustments still to be made.

“Sir,” JARVIS said. It was all he said, but it sounded warning enough that Tony whipped around to check on Peter before he had even reached the door.

Peter had sat up in his crib. All by himself. And now he was poking a little hand through the bars, babbling in an upset way.

Tony simultaneously felt guilty and amazed. Amazed because of the milestone, guilty because the reason for reaching the milestone was because his kid didn't want him to leave. He went back to the crib, where Peter had already flopped onto his back once more, not quite strong enough yet to sit up unassisted for long.

As soon as Tony put a hand back in the crib, Peter reached for it with both of his own little ones, still babbling. Tony let Peter grab onto his fingers for a minute, then guessed that sleep in the crib wasn't happening any time soon, so he gently freed his thumb from Peter's loose grip and lifted him out.

“Ok, scale of one to ten, how much do you hate your new room?” Tony muttered, once again resting Peter against his shoulder and walking slowly around the room with no set pattern to the motion. “Because you're making it seem like a ten right now, and if that's true I spent time and money on it for absolutely nothing.”

Peter huffed quietly into Tony's neck, and Tony could feel soft baby lashes fluttering against his skin. He started up a rubbing rhythm on Peter's back, slow circles and back-and-forth motions that rarely failed to put the kid to sleep.

“I guess we'll deal with that another night,” Tony said, settling into the armchair glider next to the crib for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so super short! Making it longer just wasn't working this time, so since I liked what I did manage to write, I decided to just go ahead and post it. I had to give you guys SOMETHING, it's my birthday, for goodness' sake!! (Which, thank you to the people on Tumblr who sent me asks!)
> 
> Trying to make this chapter longer is the reason I haven't posted in a couple days. Well, that and trying to name it.


	13. Baby's First Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something caught Tony's eye as Peter closed his mouth and pitched forward to nuzzle sadly into his shirt, and he eased Peter's head back up, slowly enough that the movement didn't upset him more. “Wait a minute, bubba, let me see something.”
> 
> Tony nudged Peter's mouth back open with a gentle finger, holding his pouty bottom lip down to peer in.
> 
> “Ohh, baby, no wonder,” he said, his eyes widening.
> 
> (Set in March 2002 - Peter is 7 months old!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! So, I don't know if I made it very clear in the last chapter, but I'm gonna start jumping around a little bit in terms of chronology for this fic. That's why I put Peter's age in the chapter summary, though, so you never have to be confused about how old he is in each one. My reason for this is because... I have a lot of ideas, and I don't always want to write them in order, otherwise I might not write them at all. Yeah, I know, I'm one of /those/ writers, but it's how I work, and it's always worked for me, so I hope you don't mind.
> 
> This is a bit short again, but it's. Really cute. In my completely biased opinion.

“Sir, Peter has woken up and doesn't sound particularly happy,” JARVIS said one night while Tony was in the workshop.

Tony had put Peter to bed a few hours ago, and at 7 months Peter was getting pretty good about sleeping through the night once he was down, unless he was having trouble breathing or something else was wrong with him. He had been a little irritable all day, so Tony figured that was the case tonight. He dropped his tools and ran for the stairs.

When he got to Peter's room, Tony listened carefully for wheezing, sniffling, or coughing, but instead of any of those three sounds he just heard pitiful crying. He flicked the lamp on and leaned over the crib to get a good look at the fussy baby inside.

Peter had a couple fingers in his mouth, which wasn't that unusual, although he may have been drooling a little more than _was_ usual, and big pearly teardrops leaked out of the corners of his eyes, leaving shiny tracks trailing down the sides of his scrunched face. Tony reached down and ran a hand over Peter's still mostly-bald head and made quiet shushing sounds.

“Petey, hey, buddy, what's up with you?” Tony crooned, moving his hand down to rub Peter's tummy soothingly.

Peter coughed out another cry and reached the hand that wasn't in his mouth out to Tony. Tony felt his heart clench in his chest and reached his other arm into the crib to lift Peter out and hold him close. Peter leaned heavily on his shoulder, gumming sadly on his fingers, and Tony pressed a kiss to his forehead, swaying in place slightly. “What's wrong, bambino?” he whispered, moving to sit in the chair by the crib, cradling Peter to his chest.

Peter pushed himself up a little bit and gripped onto Tony's t-shirt with both hands. Tony didn't stop him, despite the saliva covering the hand that had been in his mouth, his heart aching watching Peter's mouth open in a quiet wail of unknown discomfort.

Tony soothed a hand over Peter's head again. “I'm sorry, piccolo, I don't know how to help you,” he said, starting to feel a little distressed himself. Parental empathy, maybe. He hated seeing his baby upset.

Something caught Tony's eye as Peter closed his mouth and pitched forward to nuzzle sadly into his shirt, and he eased Peter's head back up, slowly enough that the movement didn't upset him more. “Wait a minute, bubba, let me see something.”

Tony nudged Peter's mouth back open with a gentle finger, holding his pouty bottom lip down to peer in.

“Ohh, baby, no wonder,” he said, his eyes widening. “No wonder you're so uncomfortable, you've got a tooth coming in.” Tony ran the tip of his finger over the little white bump that hadn't quite broken through Peter's sensitive gums yet, wincing sympathetically.

Tony shuffled around in the chair until he had one leg thrown over an armrest and he was leaning in the corner on the other side, with Peter nestled into the crook of his arm. He left his finger in Peter's mouth, because something about it seemed to help ease the pain.

“We'll stay right here until you fall asleep, bubba, and I'll call Pepper in the morning,” he said, watching Peter's teary eyes starting to droop. “I'll have her get you some teething toys tomorrow. Until then, my finger is yours to chew on, no matter how raisiny you make it.”

Peter babbled sleepily around Tony's finger, latching onto his thumb with his whole tiny hand. The affection Tony felt coursing through him seemed almost overwhelming at the innocent gesture. He leaned down to kiss Peter's forehead again.

“Go to sleep, Petey-Pie,” he whispered. “You'll feel better soon, I promise.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing an ear infection chapter, but I scrapped it and wrote this instead. I don't have any experience with ear infections beyond watching my sibling deal with them when they were a kid, but I do know a thing or two about sore teeth (I had the worst two and a half years of braces /ever/, ask me about it sometime) so I decided to write what I know and leave ear infections to the... well, maybe not the professionals, but someone else, at least.


	14. Baby's First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good morning, Peter,” Pepper whispered, smiling at the baby as he rolled onto his back and sat up, beaming up at her with his four tiny teeth. Pepper reached into the crib and lifted him out, settling him on her hip. “Do you want to help me surprise your daddy?”
> 
> Peter babbled happily in response.
> 
> “Did you know that it's his birthday today?” Pepper asked. “I bet he didn't tell you; he doesn't think it's very important.” She tapped Peter's button nose with her finger. “But we're going to make it special for him. Let's go!”
> 
> (Set on May 29, 2002. Peter's 9 months old!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this chapter for a while. I really like it, so I hope you do, too!

Pepper snuck into Tony's house at 6am the morning of his birthday. She brought with her a couple of beautifully wrapped packages, which she stacked neatly on the coffee table for Tony to notice and open on his own agenda (probably not until at least three hours after his first cup of coffee, if she knew him as well as she liked to think). She also brought a cake (store-bought; Pepper had a widely varied skill set, but baking was not part of it) and two pancake meals from Tony's favorite breakfast place. The second one wasn't for her; she had seen how much Tony could eat when he wanted to, and it was frankly a little horrifying. Plus, Peter had been eating solids for three months now, and Tony would probably share some with him.

As soon as Pepper was inside, she whispered to JARVIS. “Don't say anything, JARVIS. It's Tony's birthday, we're surprising him.”

JARVIS did say something, but it was at a low volume that Tony called his “whisper setting”. “Of course, Miss Potts. And who, may I ask, is 'we'?”

“Myself,” Pepper said, going to the kitchen to set up a tray to put the food on, “Rhodey, maybe Happy. And Peter.” She looked up, considering something. “And you, if you'd like.”

“I'm honored to be included, Miss Potts,” JARVIS said.

“Well, you're Tony's family, too,” Pepper said, starting a pot of coffee while she unboxed the pancakes.

\---

The next step, before delivering the food to Tony in his room, was getting Peter up.

Peter was asleep when Pepper went into his nursery, but he was probably going to be awake soon, anyway, because he perked right up when Pepper gently rubbed his back to wake him.

“Good morning, Peter,” Pepper whispered, smiling at the baby as he rolled onto his back and sat up, beaming up at her with his four tiny teeth. Pepper reached into the crib and lifted him out, settling him on her hip. “Do you want to help me surprise your daddy?”

Peter babbled happily in response.

“Did you know that it's his birthday today?” Pepper asked. “I bet he didn't tell you; he doesn't think it's very important.” She tapped Peter's button nose with her finger. “But we're going to make it special for him. Let's go!”

Pepper carried Peter down the hall, opening Tony's bedroom door and slipping inside as quietly as possible.

Tony was still mercifully fast asleep in his bed, sprawled halfway across it with the blankets tangled hopelessly around him. Pepper stifled a giggle as she approached the side of the bed that he wasn't sleeping on. She turned to Peter.

“You wake him up while I go get breakfast, ok?” she said, whispering even more softly now that Tony was right there. She put Peter down on all fours on the bed, close enough to the middle that he wouldn't fall off, but far enough away from Tony for him not to notice. “Wake Daddy up, Peter.”

Pepper watched Peter crawl clumsily over and around the mess of Tony's sheets for a moment, then left the room, leaving the door open.

\---

Tony felt something patting his cheek repeatedly, and a weird pressure on the left side of his chest, but he couldn't identify what it was without opening his eyes, and he _really_ didn't want to do that. The patting persisted, however, and even increased, so he grunted and cracked his eyes open, stretching his arms back toward the headboard.

The patting on his cheek was coming from tiny baby hands, and the strange weight on his chest was a little baby body half-flopped on top of him. There was a pair of familiar big brown eyes inches from his own.

Tony sighed and continued stretching, putting one hand over the baby protectively to keep him from toppling over. “Morning, Peter,” he mumbled, eyes slipping closed again. Then everything clicked in his brain and they snapped open again. “ _Peter_?!” He sat up, catching Peter as he slipped down his chest, squealing and giggling.

Tony lifted Peter to eye level. “How did you get in here?” he asked, more than a little confused. Peter just smiled at him, the few teeth he had on full display.

“That was my doing,” said a voice from Tony's bedroom door. He had been so focused on Peter that the sudden arrival of a new person startled him, and he nearly dropped his kid, looking in the direction it came from.

“ _Pepper_?”

Pepper smiled widely, stepping into Tony's room carefully, balancing a loaded breakfast tray in her hands.

“Happy birthday, Tony,” she said, setting the tray on the side table and perching on the edge of the bed. “Surprised?”

Tony blinked slowly, looking between Pepper, the tray full of pancakes, and Peter in his arms. “It's. My birthday?”

Pepper sucked her lips back to cover her teeth, obviously trying not to laugh. “Yes,” she said.

Tony stared at her. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“You're welcome,” she replied gently. “I know you usually say not to bother with your birthday, but now that you have Peter, I thought you might be ok if I ignored that this year.”

Tony glanced at the food again. “So you got pancakes and sicced my baby on me to wake me up at...” he glanced at the clock. “ _Six thirty_ , what the-”

Pepper smiled mysteriously, like there was something she was hiding. “Yep.”

“Oh, god, I don't trust that face,” Tony grumbled.

Pepper lifted Peter out of Tony's arms and held him so they were face to face. “Do you trust this one?” she asked, wiggling her fingers under Peter's arms so that he giggled and smiled at Tony.

Tony's heart melted at the sight of his happy baby, and reached out to take him back from Pepper. “Yeah, I do,” he murmured, holding Peter close. Peter's head popped up from Tony's shoulder as he babbled a little, so Tony turned to look at him.

Tony was caught completely by surprise when Peter lurched forward and... pressed his slobbery open mouth to Tony's cheek? What the hell?

Pepper covered her mouth with both hands. “Aw, Peter, that was sweet,” she said between giggles. Tony must have looked confused again, because she explained. “I think he just kissed you, Tony.”

Tony paused, then turned to look at Peter to the best of his ability; Peter had snuggled back into his shoulder, and it was hard to see his whole face that way.

“Is that what that was?” Tony asked softly, reaching up to stroke Peter's cheek.

“He must have been imitating what you always do,” Pepper said, her smile softening. “You kiss him a lot, and he probably knows by now what it means.”

Tony's chest filled with warmth, and he craned his neck further to kiss Peter's forehead in return. “Thank you, bubba,” he whispered, feeling a little choked up. He didn't even mind that there was a ridiculous amount of baby drool drying on his cheek. Peter's special baby brand of affection was a better birthday present than anything Tony could have thought of himself.

Pepper watched Tony with Peter for a moment, still smiling, then stood up and moved to pick up the breakfast tray. “Ok, you need to eat before it gets too cold, and I have a few things to do this morning. I'll be back later.” She waited until Tony had arranged a couple pillows and propped Peter against them, although he could pretty much sit up without them now, then put the tray in Tony's lap and handed him a fork. “Happy birthday,” she said again, her voice warm.

“Thank you,” Tony said.

“You're welcome.” Pepper left the room and closed the door almost all the way, leaving a crack a couple inches wide.

Tony looked at the stack of pancakes, vaguely wondering how the hell he was going to eat them all. Then again, Pepper had probably gotten them from his favorite place, in which case he may very well be able to.

“Hey, Petey, have I given you pancakes yet?” Tony asked, turning to Peter, who was grabbing handfuls of Tony's bedding and trying to shake them around. Improvised entertainment, Tony guessed; Peter didn't have any toys with him.

Tony watched Peter play with the blankets for a minute, feeling more fond than he ever used to think was possible before he had his sweet kid, then tore a tiny piece off of the top pancake on the stack and offered it to Peter, balancing it on the pad of his finger in front of Peter's mouth. “I think you're gonna love this, kiddo.”

Peter looked at the piece of pancake, almost like he was contemplating it.

Tony snickered, tapping the pancake against Peter's bottom lip. “ _Try it_ , Pete.”

Peter stared at it for another few seconds, during which Tony used his other hand to cut a bite of pancake for himself, then opened his mouth wide enough for Tony to nudge the tiny bite into it. Peter closed his mouth and... it looked like he was just letting it sit there. Tony laughed some more; watching Peter try new foods was always hilarious and adorable at the same time.

“What do you think, bubba?” he asked, while Peter sucked on the pancake bite, maybe mashing it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Do you like it?”

Peter wasn't making any of the faces he made when Tony fed him something he didn't like, so Tony counted it as a win.

“My son likes pancakes,” Tony said, taking another bite of his own. “That's a relief.”

When Peter finally swallowed the pancake, Tony offered him another piece. He was more interested in it the second time around.

So far, the best birthday Tony had ever had.

\---

Tony and Peter spent a good couple of hours in Tony's bed, playing in between shared bites of food. Tony drank the fantastic coffee Pepper made (there was a reason she was his PA, and maybe this technically wasn't it, but it was a huge bonus) and watched Peter get tangled up in the blankets in his efforts to crawl through them.

Eventually, and regrettably, Tony decided getting _out_ of bed would probably be a good thing, so he got up, put on some jeans and a t-shirt, and then scooped Peter up off the mattress, lifting him high and blowing a raspberry on his cheek. (Tummy raspberries were even more fun, but he would have to wait until he was changing Peter out of his onesie to do that.) Peter squealed in delight, reaching for Tony's face with both hands, slightly sticky from accidentally putting his hand in the syrup on the plate. (Tony's best efforts with a dry napkin hadn't managed to get all of it off.)

Tony smiled at his giggly baby and kissed the same cheek he had just blown a raspberry on. “Ok, bub, let's go get _you_ dressed, now.”

Tony dressed Peter quickly (minimal fussing, thank god, and he even got to blow another raspberry or two on Peter's tummy) and then he swung Peter up off the floor onto his hip, crossing the room and stopping in front of the wall-mounted shelf that was full of a small, painstakingly-curated selection of colorful baby books.

On lazier mornings, Tony liked to spend as much time as Peter's attention span could handle sitting in the comfy nursery chair reading books. Tony's favorites were the science ones. Peter just liked anything with bright colors or any sort of rhythm that made Tony sound completely ridiculous when he read it out loud.

(Although, _Good Night, Moon_ really had neither bright colors nor a playful rhythm, and that was Peter's favorite. Well, it rhymed, but it was very relaxed. Obviously, that was strictly a bedtime book.)

Tony scanned the titles on the spines. “What do we think today, Petey?” he asked, bouncing the happy, babbling baby on his hip.

Peter looked at the books with wide eyes, like he might be carefully considering the question. He probably wasn't, but Tony had no way of knowing. He reached out and batted a little hand at the spine of one of the skinnier books.

Tony recognized it instantly and bit back a groan.

“Pete. Really?” he said. “ _Chicka Chicka Boom Boom_? Don't you love me? Do you even like me? Just a tiny bit?”

Peter smiled brightly, teeth on full display, and snuggled under Tony's chin, still patting insistently at the book.

Rhodey had bought the book for Peter, and when Tony flipped through it upon receiving it, he laughed uproariously at the look of horror that spread rapidly across Tony's face.

The book had become the bane of Tony's existence.

But he read it every time Peter pointed to it.

The things he did for this kid, honestly; sometimes he even bounced Peter around on his knee in time to the words, almost like a dance, which made Peter light up with smiles and giggles.

Tony sighed and slid the book off the shelf. “You know, it's _my_ birthday, not yours, I should be allowed to refuse to read this,” he said, settling into the chair and tucking Peter into the nook his arm and chest made. Peter tilted his head up to look at Tony, his eyes bright. Tony kissed the tip of his nose, causing it to scrunch. “You're lucky you're the cutest kid in the world, or we'd be reading something else right now,” he said fondly.

Peter looked back at the book and leaned back against Tony fully, from head to toe. Tony wasn't sure how well he could see the pages with his head at that angle, but Peter looked completely content, with his fingers edging back into his mouth and his eyelashes casting a soft shadow over the tops of his cheeks as he looked down at the book, so Tony didn't bother trying to reposition him. He flicked the book open to the first page.

“ _A told B,  
_ _and B told C,  
_ _I'll meet you at the top  
_ _of the coconut tree._ ”

\---

Three books later, Tony and Peter emerged from the nursery, only to be greeted by Pepper standing right in front of the door, smiling again.

Tony tried to be subtle about how startled he was.

“Do you have a minute?” Pepper asked brightly. “There's something in the living room I think you should see.”

“You're acting very strange,” Tony complained, but secured his hold on Peter and followed her out to the living room.

Pepper stopped walking, and made Tony stop too, before they got to the living room. “Ok, now, you're holding Peter, so you can't get too annoyed, even if you want to, when you see this. All right?”

Tony tightened his hold on Peter protectively. “You're making me nervous,” he said. “What are you doing?”

Pepper tried to control the smile on her face. “Go look,” she said, stepping back and giving Tony a clear path to the living room.

Tony squinted at her as he passed, and stepped into the living room.

“Happy birthday, Tones,” Rhodey said cheerfully, standing in the middle of the room with Happy.

Happy nodded. Even he was smiling. “Happy birthday, boss.”

The room was decorated like a Party City catalog page, with streamers zigzagging from wall to wall, dipping up in the middle of the ceiling. Bunches of balloons were taped in the corners, and a banner hung over the floor-to-ceiling window, reading “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TONY!” in bright, colorful letters.

Peter pointed to the streamers and babbled in Tony's ear excitedly. Tony was positive he didn't know what they were, but he probably loved the colors.

It was the tackiest thing Tony had ever seen, and he refused to admit how much he loved it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to stop this chapter after the breakfast part, but then I got the idea for the books and stuff, and I really wanted to add that. And then I remembered that I wanted to write at least a teeny bit about the living room surprise and stuff, so now it's 8 pages in my word processor.


	15. Baby's First Swim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ok, buddy, here we go,” Tony said, swinging Peter off his hip and lowering him down to the floatie, aiming to put his little feet through the leg holes.
> 
> As soon as Peter's feet touched the water, he seemed to realize what was happening and looked up at Tony in horror. Tony was torn between sympathy and amusement, but kept lowering him, despite the sudden frantic kicking, until Peter was seated fully in the duck floatie chair.
> 
> (Set in June 2002  
> Peter is 10 months old!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I've been gone for a few days, I had a bit of writer's block, so I skipped a few chapters and decided to write one that I was actually inspired by. I'll still write the others, I just figure since these are more like oneshots it's ok to post them out of order.

“I hate summer.”

“You love summer.”

“Not right now, I don't. It's too hot.”

“You have air conditioning. You're just in a bad mood because Pepper made you go to a meeting this morning.”

“Uh, did she?”

“What do you mean- oh my god, whatever. Look, if you're so hot, despite being inside, why don't you take Peter swimming?”

Tony sat up halfway on his elbows and stared down the couch at Rhodey. “What?”

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at him. “Swimming? Your private pool. Cool water. Sunshine. One of those baby floaties. Your stupid sunglasses.”

“Peter hates water,” Tony deadpanned, ignoring the jab at his love of sunglasses.

“Peter hates baths,” Rhodey corrected. “He might like the pool.”

“The bath is warm,” Tony pointed out. “If he hates warm water why would he like cold water?”

Rhodey shrugged. “Maybe he'll like not being scrubbed at constantly. Maybe he'll like it more since you'll be getting in with him.”

Obviously Tony was going to get in the pool if he took Peter swimming, but he didn't see Rhodey's point. “What difference would me being in the water make?”

“I don't know, Tones, maybe he'd feel safer. You know, 'Dad's here, and nothing bad is happening to either of us' kinda thing.”

Tony blinked. “You think that's his problem?”

“I don't know, Tony, I can't read his mind, it's just a guess,” Rhodey sighed. “But it might be worth a try.”

\---

A quick trip to the store later, Tony and Rhodey sat in deck chairs under the covered portion of the patio, wearing swim trunks, flip flops, and, in Tony's case, sunglasses. Tony had Peter, dressed only in a swim diaper, in his lap, and was slathering him in enough baby sunscreen to make him just a little slippery. Peter didn't like when he put the stuff on his face, but otherwise seemed unbothered by the rest of it. Rhodey was doing his level best to blow up the duck floatie they had bought, and Tony had laughed for ages at the way his cheeks puffed out like a blowfish and his whole face turned red. Tony and Rhodey had both already put sunscreen on, so after they waited the fifteen minutes for Peter's to soak in, Tony situated a little fabric bucket hat on Peter's head, stood up with the baby on his hip, and made his way to the pool.

The first couple of steps into the blissfully cool water felt amazing, and Tony kept going until he was knee-deep in it and the floatie Rhodey tossed in was bumping gently against his leg.

Tony let his eyes close behind his sunglasses for a moment. “God, that feels good. Pete, I'm sorry, if you hate this I may have to disown you,” he muttered. Rhodey snickered from his seat on his deck chair, fiddling with the video camera he had convinced Tony to buy a while back.

“Ok, buddy, here we go,” Tony said, swinging Peter off his hip and lowering him down to the floatie, aiming to put his little feet through the leg holes.

As soon as Peter's feet touched the water, he seemed to realize what was happening and looked up at Tony in horror. Tony was torn between sympathy and amusement, but kept lowering him, despite the sudden frantic kicking, until Peter was seated fully in the duck floatie chair.

Peter let out a squeal of outrage as Tony backed down the last two steps into the shallow end of the pool, tugging the floatie along so that it didn't drift away. He was acutely aware of Rhodey training the video camera on them, but he ignored it.

“Petey, hey, it's ok,” Tony said gently, crouching a bit so that the water came almost to his shoulders and he was closer to Peter's level. His voice adopted the soft crooning tone that Peter usually liked. “You're ok, bubba, it's just water.” The jury was still out on whether that was actually the problem.

Peter peeked out from under the brim of the bucket hat and looked at Tony with wide eyes. He looked a little teary, but he wasn't crying yet. Tony took that as a good thing, moving even closer so that Peter could reach him if he wanted to.

“Peter,” Tony cooed, “you're ok, I promise.” He lifted a hand and stroked Peter's cheek softly with one finger.

Peter looked at the water distrustfully, squealing again and kicking his legs in the water so hard that he propelled himself backwards and Tony had to catch the floatie before it could get too far away and scare Peter further.

“Peter, no, hey, look at me,” Tony said, moving his hand back to Peter's face. “Look at me, bubba, I'm here, you're ok.” He waited until Peter actually did look at him before adding, “You're safe. Daddy's got you. I'm right here.”

Peter opened his mouth, maybe to squeal again, but then he stopped and looked down at the duck floatie, then back up at Tony. He reached a little hand up as high as he could in Tony's direction.

Tony let Peter grip onto one of his fingers, smiling encouragingly. “There you go, Pete, it's not so bad, huh?”

Peter leaned over the side of the floatie to look at the water, and patted the surface with his free hand. He splashed himself in the face a little, and looked like he might scream for a second, but he didn't. He just turned big, uncertain eyes on Tony, almost like he was asking if everything was still ok.

Tony grinned, lifting his own free hand out of the water and letting the drops trickle down the lower half of Peter's arm. Peter watched, mildly fascinated, and as far as Tony could tell, that was that. Peter didn't mind the pool.

“Was I right, or was I right?” Rhodey said, a broad grin on his face behind the video camera.

“Don't get too cocky, it was a lucky guess,” Tony said, not taking his eyes off Peter as he patted at the water again, then leaned back and raised his arm to show Tony his wet hand. “Yeah, Pete, wet.”

Peter lowered his hand to inspect it himself, then held it back up to Tony.

Tony snickered and caught Peter's arm, pressing a kiss to the little fingers that peeked out from his own big ones. Peter smiled properly for the first time since getting in the pool and squealed again, this time with laughter.

“Hey, there we go!” Tony said triumphantly, looking at Rhodey. “You got that on tape, right? That billion-dollar baby grin?”

“I got it,” Rhodey confirmed, holding out a thumbs-up. “It was adorable. See, I told you he'd like this better than the bath.”

“You did,” Tony said. “Now put the camera down and get in, I can see you sweating from here, it's gross.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes and switched the camera off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter! I did lose about half of it at one point and had to start over, but fortunately it was fresh enough in my mind that it's almost exactly the same fdshgjfghdf
> 
> I feel like someone gave me this idea, but I can't remember who, so whoever it was, thank you!


	16. Baby's First Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have no idea how big this is, Pete,” Tony murmured, leaning against the counter. “And, yeah, you know, you could have made my entire life and said 'Dada' or something, but. That was a cute alternative.” He tipped Peter's head back and planted a kiss on his little button nose. “I'm proud of you, buddy.”
> 
> (Set in July 2002. Peter is 11 months old!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting back into my old swing, and I'm having so much fun. I know I've been posting super late recently (like, 10/11pm my time) but nobody seems to mind yet, and besides, my time zone is not the only one that exists.
> 
> I love this chapter, I hope you do too!

“Ack.”

Tony paused, one hand inches from the rubber duck, the other half-submerged in soapy bath water. He looked at Peter.

“What was that?” he asked. “That didn't sound like a cough. Or a sneeze.”

Peter just stared back at Tony for a moment, then flailed his arm out in the same direction as Tony's, toward the duck. “ _Ack_.”

Tony's eyes widened, even as Peter leaned halfway out of his bath chair in his attempts to reach the duck. “Are you. Are you trying to say something?”

Peter huffed, still reaching for the duck. Soapy water landed on his face from all his wiggling, and he grunted in frustration, but kept trying to get his toy. “ _Ack_ ,” he repeated, starting to sound a little squealy and _very_ insistent.

Tony picked up the duck and held it in Peter's reach. “ _Quack_?” he asked hesitantly. “Is that what you mean?”

Peter's eyes lit up and he reached to take the duck from Tony. “ _Ack_!” he said, squishing the toy in his little hand so that it squeaked.

Tony stared at Peter, dumbfounded. He had found a book of animal noises at the grocery store one day, and the first time he showed it to Peter he got really excited about the page with the duck on it, but he hadn't tried to mimic any of the animal noises before.

“I... yeah, Pete, that's right,” Tony said softly, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “The duck says quack, that's _exactly right_ , bub.” He smoothed Peter's damp hair back, feeling pride swelling up in his chest.

“Ack,” Peter said, sounding very self-satisfied, poking and squishing the duck happily.

Tony played absently with Peter's hair, awestruck by what had just happened. His fingers twisted the soft strands of hair into a soapy, light brown curl, sticking straight up on his kid's head.

“You have no idea how big this is, Pete,” Tony murmured, leaning against the counter. “And, yeah, you know, you could have made my entire life and said 'Dada' or something, but. Duck noises are a cute alternative.” He tipped Peter's head back and planted a kiss on his little button nose. “I'm proud of you, buddy.”

Peter, completely unmoved by everything he was causing, held the duck out to show Tony. “Ack,” he said again.

Tony laughed and stood up straighter, reaching for the washcloth so he could finish giving Peter his bath. “Yeah, Pete, quack.”

“Ack.”

\---

“Tony, I think Peter's trying to cough up a hairball, or something,” Rhodey said over JARVIS' intercom.

Tony looked up from his work, brow furrowing. “Uh, honey bear, last I checked, my son was not a yeti,” he said slowly.

He could almost _hear_ the eyeroll.

“Yeah, Tones, I know that, but he keeps making this weird noise-”

“Ack!”

“ _That_ one, did you hear that? What is that?” Rhodey exclaimed.

Tony laughed so hard he nearly fell off his stool. “Oh my god,” he gasped, “Rhodey, he's not choking on a hairball, he's _talking_.”

“He's what.” Rhodey's voice was completely flat.

Tony snickered. “Hang on, I'm coming up there, I wanna see your face.”

He put his tools down on his worktop and headed upstairs, making a quick stop in Peter's room to grab something before joining Rhodey and Peter in the living room.

Tony scooped Peter up off the floor and sat next to Rhodey on the couch.

“Explain how the sound your kid is making is supposed to be a word,” Rhodey deadpanned.

Tony winked at his friend. “Watch and learn, platypus, this is great.” He held up the fluffy duck stuffed animal Peter had gotten for Christmas months ago and loved to pieces, showing it to his kid. “Petey, what do ducks say?”

“Ack!” Peter squealed, reaching for the duck and smiling.

Tony let Peter take the duck from his hand, grinning at Rhodey. “Right, buddy, ducks say _quack_.”

Rhodey's eyes widened in understanding. “ _Oh_ ,” he said. “Oh my god, that's great!”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, lifting Peter up into a standing position on his knees. Peter kept playing with his duck, a stream of happy babbling punctuated by the occasional “ack”.

Rhodey reached over and chucked a finger under Peter's chin. “Hey, buddy, that's your first word, isn't it? Pretty cool, kiddo.”

Peter beamed at Rhodey, bouncing up and down on Tony's lap so enthusiastically that Tony had to adjust his grip so that he didn't drop him on accident. He kissed Peter's cheek and settled him back in a sitting position, and Peter kept playing with his duck.

“Kind of surprised his first word wasn't 'dad' or something,” Rhodey said. “Since he's still so clingy.”

Tony shrugged. “Me too, and maybe a little disappointed, but the spontaneous quacking is fun.”

Rhodey laughed. “I bet it is,” he agreed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that Peter has a thing about ducks. I don't know why. He just likes 'em. So his first word is... a very baby-ized version of "quack", fgshhggd I thought it was cute, idk.
> 
> If you haven't seen the start of my new Christmas series yet, go read that, too, it's 4500 words of pretty much pure Christmas baby fluff, it's my favorite thing I've written so far.


	17. Baby Takes A Stand: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter lifted an arm and waved it in Pepper's direction, opening and closing his hand a few times.
> 
> “Peter's waving,” Tony said before she could walk out the door. Pepper turned around to look and smiled at Peter, waving back before closing the door behind her.
> 
> As soon as the door was closed, Tony looked down at Peter. “You just stood up,” he said.
> 
> (Set in July 2002. Peter is 11 months old!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have... very few words? To go along with this chapter? I don't know, it's cute, just take it. Enjoy.
> 
> (Oh, the chapter title says "part 1" because there's gonna be another chapter involving standing later on. That's probably obvious but I thought I'd mention it.)

Pepper sighed impatiently. “Tony, please try to focus for a minute, we're almost done.”

Tony looked at her incredulously. “I'm sorry, do you not hear the fussy baby crawling around my ankles?” Peter whined and batted his hand at Tony's pant leg. He had been getting progressively fussier for about ten minutes, and as soon as he remembered he could crawl, he had come right over to make himself known, crawling around and sitting at Tony's feet under the table.

“I do hear him,” Pepper said slowly, “but we really should have done this days ago, the deadline is tomorrow. We've put it off long enough, five more minutes and then Peter can distract you all he wants.”

Tony glanced under the table at Peter, who had plopped down on his butt about a foot away from Tony's left foot and had started blubbering a little bit, his lower lip sticking out and wobbling for extra heart-wrenching effect.

“Five minutes,” Pepper begged, tapping her pen against the table top.

Tony tore his eyes away from the sad baby under the table and returned his attention to Pepper, and the stack of business she had brought with her.

They carried on for about a minute and a half of the promised five, when Tony felt two little hands scrabbling up his leg, then scrunching into the fabric at his knee. Then a tugging feeling, and Tony couldn't help but look down because, what the hell?

“Oh my god,” Tony said. “Pepper, _look_ , oh my god.”

Pepper sighed in exasperation and leaned back to look under the table, then gasped. “Oh, wow. Has he ever...?”

“ _No_.”

Peter was clinging to Tony's pant leg, leaning heavily, but standing on two wobbly, chubby legs. He still looked upset, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes but not falling yet. He had probably pulled himself up in a desperate demand for Tony's attention.

Tony looked up at Pepper pleadingly, and she sighed again.

“Pick him up, then,” she said resignedly. “But we are _finishing this_ before anything else.”

Tony reached under the table and pulled Peter into his lap, navigating carefully to avoid smacking Peter's head on anything on the way up. Peter calmed down significantly almost as soon as his feet were off the ground, and when Tony settled him onto his lap he snuggled right in and didn't make another peep for the rest of the five minutes of time that Pepper required.

Finally, the boring business wrapped up. Pepper put everything away and looked at Tony. “You're free now,” she said. “Go, play with your kid, celebrate the milestone however you usually do.” She ran a hand over Peter's head was she passed by on her way out the door. “Thank you for your time.”

“Good bye, Miss Potts,” Tony called after her.

“Good bye, Mr. Stark,” she called over her shoulder.

Peter lifted an arm and waved it in her direction, opening and closing his hand a few times.

“Peter's waving,” Tony said before she could walk out the door. Pepper turned around to look and smiled at Peter, waving back before closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door was closed, Tony looked down at Peter. “You just stood up,” he said.

Peter smiled.

Tony lifted Peter into a standing position on his lap, kissing his cheek as he did. “You figured out how to stand up just because you weren't getting enough attention,” he teased. “You're a very demanding child, you know that, right?”

Peter kept smiling, and lurched forward to plant a big, slobbery, open-mouthed kiss on Tony's cheek.

\---

The only downside to Peter's new skill so far was that it made bedtime even more impossible than it already was. Before, when Tony put Peter down on his back or on his front he would have to stay there like a little log. Now, no matter how Tony put him down, Peter could wiggle and roll and sit up, and now he could pull himself up on the bars. Tony would put him back down, and he would pop right up again. More often than not, Tony would have to get Peter to sleep _before_ putting him down if he wanted him to _stay_ down. (That happened a lot anyway, but it was progressively getting worse.)

However, it was also occasionally a good thing.

Tony woke up in the middle of the night one night to JARVIS' voice, loud enough to wake him and urgent enough that he was _awake_ far more quickly than he normally would have been.

“Peter is wheezing, sir.”

Tony jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to Peter's room immediately. He could hear Peter wheezing even before he stepped into the room, but it didn't sound as bad as it usually did at this point.

The reason for that was because Peter had managed to pull himself up to stand against the bars, and while he looked distressed, already being upright had probably improved his breathing a lot. He whined and reached for Tony as soon as he saw him.

Tony crossed the room and lifted Peter out of the crib swiftly. He spoke to his baby softly, his voice adopting the soothing tone he always used during these wheezing attacks. “You're ok, bubba, let's go get you something to drink and then sit by the humidifier for a bit. Looks like your new trick is starting to come in handy, though, huh?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went light-seeing with my family tonight, and it was super nice... right up until the end where we went to one of those houses that syncs up to a radio station. We had seen a bunch earlier in the night, but this one was so strobe-y and bright that it genuinely hurt to look at, and I'm not even super sensitive to that stuff, it was weird. But we got hot cocoa at the beginning, and mine was raspberry flavored, and the place we went to had dairy-free options and that makes me super happy, because I got to drink the whole thing without worrying about a tummy ache since it was almond milk, and it was so good, I want to go back. This has nothing to do with the fic, I just wanted to talk about it because it made me happy and I hope everyone else is having a good night/day, too <3<3<3


	18. Baby's First Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter turns one, Tony's mushy Dad Brain rules his life, messes are made, and Rhodey and Pepper help celebrate.
> 
> Set on August 10, 2002. Peter is one year old!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS  
> FREAKING  
> CHAPTER  
> IS SUCH A LONG TIME COMING
> 
> I'm dead serious, I've been writing this chapter for six. Whole. Weeks. Maybe longer, I can't remember, it's all a blur, I'm not even being a little bit dramatic.
> 
> So, I'm sorry it took so long to update this fic, I know it's a favorite for a lot of you guys, but I hope it'll be worth the wait! And, to make up for going so long without an update... This chapter is almost 9k words. You're welcome. Probably.

On the morning of August 10th, Tony actually managed to wake up first for once.

He liked waking up first, because it meant he got to wake Peter up, or at least be in the nursery when he woke himself up. Peter was... literally always clingy and cuddly, but especially so in the mornings, and he was sleep-warm and he smelled good (unless he had a dirty diaper). Morning baby cuddles were some of the best kinds. (Besides... literally all of them. Tony had nothing bad to say about any baby cuddles.)

Tony climbed out of bed and went to start a pot of coffee so that it would be ready by the time he was done waking Peter up, then he headed into the nursery.

He approached Peter's crib quietly, leaning over to peer at the sleeping baby inside.

Peter was on his tummy, his arm flopped loosely over his favorite duck toy. The blanket Roberta had knitted for him for Christmas was still mostly covering him, but it was much more tangled than it had been when Tony draped it over him the night before. Even now, while his head was still pressed into the mattress, Tony could tell Peter's bedhead was going to be fantastic. It was amazing how so little hair could turn into such a wild, curly mess.

Tony leaned his elbows against the crib bars and listened to Peter's soft, snuffly breathing. He smiled as Peter shifted slightly in his sleep, stretching one leg all the way out, then curling it back up so that he looked a little like a swimming frog, with one leg pulled up on either side of his body.

Peter was probably going to wake up naturally soon, so Tony decided to jump start the process. He reached into the crib and smoothed a hand over Peter's soft, messy hair, then moved it down to his back, rubbing in slow, firm circles.

“Peter,” he said softly. “Time to wake up.” He stroked Peter's cheek. “Come on, buddy.”

Eyes still closed, Peter stretched again, but this time Tony could tell it was a “waking up” stretch, not a “still sleeping” one.

“Good morning, Petey,” Tony said, taking one of Peter's little hands in his own and gently playing with his fingers. Peter's eyes finally blinked open and he snuffled sleepily a few times. Tony moved his hand back to Peter's hair. He huffed and squirmed until he flipped onto his back, his movements a little clumsy from sleep. He looked up at Tony, and Tony saw a tiny little smile starting to grow on his face. He chuckled. “Hi, baby.”

Peter made clumsy, jerking movements, sitting up, and then pulling himself up on the bars until he could just barely peek over the top of them, eyes locked on Tony.

Tony snickered and bent down to Peter's eye level. “Hey, shorty,” he said. “Guess what?”

Peter made a noise that was muffled against the crib bars, bouncing enthusiastically.

Tony leaned forward until their faces were so close together that Peter appeared to have three eyes. “You're a year old today, bubba. It's your birthday.”

Peter made another happy, slightly gurgly noise.

“Well, you're just in a great mood this morning, aren't you?” Tony straightened up and held his arms out to Peter. “Let's get you out of there, huh birthday boy?”

Peter beamed up at Tony and reached for him with both hands, leaning heavily against the bars but looking like he was going to fall fast. Tony swooped forward and lifted him into his arms before that could happen, swinging him up high to kiss his cheek before tucking him into his chest and holding him close. Peter snuggled right in, babbling nonsensically.

Tony carried his newly-one year old out into the living room, where Peter squealed excitedly and started pointing to all the atrocious decorations.

“Ack!”

Tony smiled into Peter's hair, looking at the stylized ducks on the banner Peter was pointing to. “That's right, kiddo, that's a duck. You picked that out yourself, remember?”

He sincerely doubted Peter actually did remember their recent trip to Party City, especially since he seemed so newly excited by everything, like he didn't remember choosing all of it. He babbled and waved his arms and squealed at every single decoration that came into his view. He was particularly delighted when Tony untaped a yellow balloon from the wall and rubbed it gently over the top of Peter's head, then swivelled and pointed to a mirror to show Peter the way his sleep-fluffy hair stood straight up in reaction to the static. Peter screamed with laughter at his reflection for ages, and Tony could only smile, watching his precious son getting so excited about something so simple.

Tony made pancakes for breakfast. Peter liked eating everything like it was a finger food, when he could get away with it (which was often), so Tony cut his up into Peter-sized bites and put it on his high chair tray plain, with a flourish and a “Have at it, kiddo” and a kiss to the curls on the top of his head, which were still a little frizzy from the balloon static. It took Tony longer than usual to eat his own breakfast, because he kept getting distracted watching Peter play happily with his food, babbling to himself while prodding at it and pushing it around his tray, and occasionally actually putting a bite of pre-cut pancake in his mouth. Once in a while he would pick up one of the pieces and show it to Tony (“Pretty cool, Pete. Bet it tastes even better, why don't you find out?”), which was cute no matter how many times he did it. At this point, Tony wasn't sure there was anything Peter could do that wasn't cute.

(He couldn't even bring himself to be horrified when he had thoughts like that, anymore. He'd had a year now, he was pretty well-adjusted to the mushy, affectionate “dad brain” he had developed.)

\---

“All right, Pete, now that you've completely obliterated that pancake, what do you say we go get you dressed?” Tony said, freeing Peter from his high chair and swinging him onto his hip to take him back to the nursery and find some clothes.

Tony settled Peter on the changing mat in the middle of the floor, grabbed a couple things from the dresser, and got set to change him into it, then realized he was missing one... rather important thing. The diaper stash in Peter's room was empty, he would have to grab some from the bathroom.

“Oh, sh- shoot,” Tony muttered, eyeing the kid on the floor who could, at pretty much any moment, decide he wanted to start his mimicking phase. “Ok, Pete, you wait here, I need to go grab you a diaper so you're not running around commando and destroying these clothes, because these are _nice_ clothes.” He stood up, rubbing Peter's tummy playfully as he did. “Don't go anywhere, bud, I'll be back.”

Peter's eyes widened as he watched Tony get up, but before Tony turned around to actually leave the room all he did was sit up.

Tony had one foot out the door when a tiny, upset little voice made him stop dead.

“No! Dahey!”

Tony dropped his foot and swiveled around to look at Peter, who was crawling across the floor at top speed, looking like a baby on a mission.

“Dahey, no,” Peter whined again, seeing that Tony wasn't moving one way or the other and leaning back until he sat down heavily, huffing and pouting and reaching for Tony with both hands.

Tony's eyes burned. “Oh, god.” He crossed the room in three steps and scooped Peter up into his arms. He cleared his throat quietly. “Peter,” he said slowly, hoping to any deity there may be that he wasn't crying, because his eyes were definitely burning, “you just said my name, right? Did you just say 'Daddy'?” He also said “no”, which he had definitely never said before, but that wasn't nearly as important. Tony had been trying to get Peter to say some form of his name for _weeks_.

“Dahey,” Peter mumbled, his hand curling into Tony's shirt collar.

Tony kissed the top of Peter's head. “Yeah, Pete,” he whispered into soft baby hair, “I'm Daddy.”

“Dahey, _no_.”

Tony bounced Peter gently, assuming Peter meant he didn't want Tony to leave the room to go get a diaper. “Daddy's not going anywhere if you don't want him to, bud.” He patted Peter's leg lightly. “But you do need a clean diaper, so I need to go get one, and if you're insisting on being this clingy this morning, I guess you're coming with me.”

Peter looked up at Tony and patted his face, babbling, his eyebrows scrunching. Tony was almost surprised to realize his cheeks were damp, and he brought his free hand up to rub them. He chuckled, a little embarrassed.

“Look what you're doing to me, kid, I'm not a crier,” he said, sniffing once and clearing his throat again. “This is your fault, I'm blaming you.”

“Dahey.”

Tony scoffed and pressed a kiss to Peter's cheek firmly. “You'd better cut that out, kiddo, or I'm going to be completely useless for the rest of the day.” _Never stop. Keep saying it forever._ “Daddy loves you so much, bubba. _So_ _much_.”

\---

“ _Tony, I know you know how to bake a cake. Why am I going to a bakery._ ”

It wasn't really a question, so much as a deadpan inquiry with an answer Tony had a feeling Pepper already knew, so he wasn't sure why she bothered asking.

“Because, Pep, as we established very early on, like probably within the first two hours of his life, I have the clingiest kid in existence,” he said, answering anyway. “Do you really think he's going to let me leave him alone long enough to bake, let alone decorate, a whole-ass cake?”

Pepper was silent for a minute. Tony wondered if she had hung up, or if she was maybe just silently stewing in her irritation.

“ _You could let him help._ ”

Now it was Tony's turn to be silent, even as Peter pulled up to stand, clinging tightly to Tony's pant legs with both hands, nonsensical babbling occasionally punctuated by one of the few words he had learned (Tony's favorite was, obviously, “Daddy”).

“Pepper,” Tony said slowly, “he is barely a year old. Hell...” he checked his watch. “He's not even technically a year old, because it's not 3 PM in New York, yet.”

“ _He has basic motor skills, yes?_ ” Pepper said. “ _Just sit him on the counter and, I don't know, maybe let him help you put some ingredients in the bowl. Let him lick the frosting spoon, whatever. Just don't try to have him crack an egg._ ”

“I don't have cake ingredients,” Tony grumbled.

“ _Go shopping. Not my problem,_ ” Pepper said. “ _Let me work, Tony_.”

“Buying a cake could be considered part of your job.”

“ _Hm. Nice try. This is up to you,_ _Dad_ ,” Pepper said, her tone slightly teasing. “ _Bye, Tony. Keep your camera handy._ ”

She hung up before Tony could protest further.

Tony stared at his phone for just a minute, then put it down and looked down at Peter, who was still standing on short, chubby little legs, using Tony's for heavy support. Peter looked up at him and smiled toothily, babbling happily. He reached one little hand up as high as he could reach, opening and closing his fingers as he reached for Tony's hand.

Tony was more than willing to give the kid what he wanted, holding his hand close enough for tiny fingers to close around his thumb and hold on tight. His free hand pushed Peter's curls away from his face, then gently chucked a finger under his chin. He smiled when the action caused Peter to squeal.

“Looks like you and me have a date with a mixing bowl,” Tony said. “You're gonna help me bake your cake.”

They just needed to go grocery shopping first.

\---

Tony figured a basic chocolate cake would be easy enough, plus he couldn't wait to take a hundred pictures of Peter with the stuff all over his face, where it inevitably would end up.

In the kitchen, Tony put all the ingredients on the counter with a few mixing bowls and various tools, then he stripped Peter down to his diaper and put him on the counter in the middle of all of it (he really didn't want to try to wash cake ingredients out of Peter's clothes; he had a feeling chocolate was infinitely harder to clean than drool).

Peter immediately grabbed a rubber spatula and started chewing on it, which Tony had the foresight to buy two of, because he thought that might happen. He chuckled and smoothed his hand over Peter's hair once, then got busy opening things and lining them up to be used. Peter watched with passive interest, following Tony's movements with his eyes as he kept sucking and chewing on his new friend, the spatula.

“What do you think, bud, do you wanna help?” Tony asked, leaning back to avoid the puff of dust as he tore the bag of flour open. Peter babbled and leaned toward the bag as the dust settled. Tony stopped him from sticking his hand in it and encouraged him to keep playing with the spatula.

“Ok, ok, you can help _without_ singlehandedly destroying the kitchen,” Tony said, measuring out the flour and putting the bag out of Peter's reach as quickly as he could.

Tony let Peter help add the sugar in, filling a 1-cup measure to the half mark so that Peter wouldn't dump it all over the counter the second he grabbed onto it. Peter didn't seem to know what to do with the measuring cup once Tony gave it to him, and Tony had to patiently tap the mixing bowl a couple times before Peter got the idea.

Tony praised Peter highly when 90% of the sugar made it into the bowl.

(He kept a guiding hand over Peter's at all times, but that hardly matters.)

\---

By the time the cake was in the oven and the frosting was mixed, Peter was a _mess_.

“Oh, god, how did this stuff get in your _hair_?” Tony grumbled, running his fingers through Peter's fine curls in a fruitless attempt to get the flour (or was it powdered sugar?) out. “Gonna have to give you a bath, bub.”

Peter babbled at him around the spatula he was still chewing the life out of (Tony had dropped a blob of chocolate frosting on it, and Peter was having a ball with that), looking up at him with his big brown eyes. He sneezed three times in a row (probably from all the flour dust), then blinked, looking stunned, like he wasn't sure what had just happened.

“Bless you,” Tony laughed. He leaned his forearms on the counter in front of Peter and bent down to his eye level. Peter moved one little hand away from his spatula and stretched it forward to pat at Tony's face. Tony chuckled. “Hey, you.” He stood up straight and held his hands out to Peter. “Come on, buddy, let's get you cleaned up.”

Peter was more than happy to let Tony scoop him up off the counter, not even complaining when Tony gently extracted the (slobbery, but frosting-free) spatula from his grip and dropped it in the sink. Tony lifted him high and blew a raspberry on his bare tummy to hear him giggle uncontrollably.

Tony snorted as he lowered Peter into a more normal position. “You taste like powdered sugar,” he told the still-giggling baby. “You _really_ need a bath.”

“Ba ba ba ba.”

“I don't know what that means, but you're absolutely right.”

\---

Tony had gotten Peter cleaned up from the baking mess ages ago, and now, since Peter finally actually enjoyed baths, he was perfectly happy to let his kid splash around and have some fun before he took him out and dried him off.

Tony leaned over the edge of the bathtub and grinned down at the tiny bubble monster sitting inside. “You are worlds of fun to watch in the bath, now that you don't scream at the sight of water anymore,” he said conversationally, propping his chin in his hand and watching Peter poke through the bubble mountains to find his rubber duck. There was a small mound of bubbles sitting on top of Peter's freshly washed hair, which Tony was positive Peter hadn't actually noticed yet, too focused on finding his favorite yellow friend. Tony was provided with plenty of adorable “baby in the bath” picture opportunities, which he _would_ use to embarrass Peter in the future.

“Ack!” Peter squealed, pushing aside some bubbles to reveal his beloved bath toy, grabbing it and waving his arm wildly to make it splash against the surface of the shallow water. He held the duck up to Tony. “Dahey, ack!”

Tony's chest filled with warmth at the sound of his own name in the adorable high-pitched voice of his precious child, and he smiled. “Yeah, bub.” He dipped his finger into the bubbles surrounding Peter, then dabbed some onto his baby's little button nose. Peter blinked in surprise, then burst into pealing giggles, rubbing a wet hand over his nose in an attempt to wipe the bubbles off.

Tony watched Peter play in the water for a few more minutes, then he got Peter's fluffy hooded towel ready and pulled the plug to let the water drain out, dusting the bubbles off of Peter's head (the kid still hadn't noticed those).

“Come here, bub,” Tony said once the water was pretty much gone and the bubbles were at a more controllable height. He reached into the bath with the towel, wrapping it around Peter, taking care to tuck his little head into the hood properly. Peter gurgled happily as Tony lifted him out of the tub, and snuggled right in when Tony tucked him into one arm so he could use the other to gently dry him off.

Tony smiled fondly at Peter snuggling into his shoulder. He kissed Peter's damp forehead, pausing in his towel-drying for a moment. “You're so cute, kiddo. And you know it, too, don't you?”

“Ba ba ba.”

“Still don't know what that means, but I'm taking it as a 'yes',” Tony teased, playfully but gently rubbing a corner of the towel over Peter's face. Peter giggled at the feeling. “Of course you know you're cute, and I'm sure you use it to your advantage at every opportunity.”

\---

In Tony's entirely biased opinion, the cake didn't turn out half bad.

He frosted it himself, because letting Peter even _try_ would have been a recipe (ha) for disaster (and even doing it himself, the result was less than perfect), but then he handed Peter a sprinkle shaker and let him go nuts. Sprinkles flew just about everywhere, and the cake _looked_ like it was decorated by a baby, but Peter giggled and babbled and generally looked like he was having the time of his life, so it was well worth the mess.

The pictures would be fun to look through later, too.

(Tony was _such a dad_ , oh god.)

Rhodey showed up just as Tony finished cleaning up the kitchen, and Peter, whom Tony had deposited in his high chair so he didn't either fall off the counter or get underfoot while Tony cleaned, squealed in excitement at the sight of his uncle.

Rhodey beamed at Peter and dropped a couple of brightly wrapped presents on the table so he could scoop Peter up for a hug and a kiss. “Hey, kiddo!” he said. “Happy birthday, buddy!” Peter babbled cheerfully, snuggling up to Rhodey comfortably.

“That better be the only two presents you brought,” Tony warned, only half-serious, dumping a dustpan full of sprinkles into the trash and going to hug Rhodey himself, sneaking a kiss to Peter's head as he did so.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Yes, they are,” he huffed.

“Good. He's plenty spoiled as it is.”

“And who's fault is that?”

Tony, in an outstanding display of maturity, stuck his tongue out in response.

Tony let Rhodey keep Peter as they moved to the living room, and both of them were perfectly happy to continue snuggling.

“He smells really good, did you give him a bath?” Rhodey asked.

Tony resisted the urge to stick his tongue out again. “He always smells good, honey bear, I'm not a fan of the implication that he doesn't-”

“-Not what I was saying-”

“-but yes, I did, we baked a cake and he was a mess,” Tony finished.

Rhodey grinned. “ _You_. Baked a cake. Sorry I missed that.”

Tony frowned. “It didn't go as badly as whatever you're imagining, have some faith. It looks edible.”

“' _Looks_ '?”

“You-”

Peter decided not enough of the conversation involved him, and he wriggled around in Rhodey's lap. “ _Dahey_.”

Tony smiled and turned his attention to his son, leaning forward to let him grab onto his hand. “Yeah, Petey?”

Rhodey's eyes went wide. “He just said 'daddy', didn't he? When did that start?”

Tony beamed. “This morning,” he said, watching Peter grab onto his hand with both of his tiny ones.

“Did you cry? You cried, didn't you?” Rhodey teased. “JARVIS, please tell me he cried.”

“I will donate you to a community college if you say a word, JARVIS,” Tony grumbled.

“You did cry a little, sir,” JARVIS said.

“I can't believe this,” Tony said mournfully. “Selling me out, after everything we've been through...”

\---

“So, I thought I might finally introduce Peter to the bots today,” Tony said. “For real this time, not just showing them a picture.”

When Tony brought Peter home to Malibu the first time, he had gone down to the workshop when Peter was asleep and told DUM-E, U, and Butterfingers about him. Showed them a photo. Told them, in no uncertain terms, that they would not be meeting Peter in person for a while, because their track record for handling, or even being in the same room as, delicate things was not so good. And, to Tony, Peter was “the ultimate delicate thing”. Especially when he was still a newborn, but even now.

“They'll be excited about that,” Rhodey said. “You told me they were pretty disappointed when you said they couldn't meet him.”

“DUM-E did that sad beeping thing that I'm positive I did not add to his programming myself,” Tony said. “And until I can prove that you did it when I wasn't looking, I will never know how he learned to do that.”

“I didn't- never mind,” Rhodey said, probably refusing to get back into the pointless argument they had been having since DUM-E was first activated back in college. “So, when are you going to do that?”

Tony shrugged. “Now, I guess? No point putting it off. Not like there's much else on the agenda today.”

\---

Five minutes later, Tony and Rhodey were in the workshop. Tony had Peter on his lap, and he was sitting on his swivelly work stool. Rhodey stood nearby with the video camera in his hand, not turned on yet but with his finger hovering over the red button.

“Yeah, ok, just a minute, Peter's into the swivel chair,” Tony said, swinging on the stool gently from side to side, enjoying the happy giggly sounds Peter was making in response to the motion.

“Man, this kid has turned you so soft,” Rhodey said fondly, stealthily turning the camera on and aiming it at Tony and Peter.

Tony gave Rhodey a quick look, but otherwise ignored him (because he knew, ok, he _knew_ ), keeping his attention on Peter. “I can't really see his face, is he smiling?”

“Oh, yeah, he's having the time of his life. Heads up though, the bots have noticed us,” Rhodey said, turning the camera briefly over to where DUM-E and Butterfingers were whirring and beeping across the room, starting to make their way over to where Rhodey and Tony were.

Tony looked up, following Rhodey's gaze. “Ok, here we go. My robot children meeting my human child.”

“You nervous?”

“That they won't like each other? No, but I am a little nervous that one of them is going to try to touch Peter and end up, I don't know, poking him in the eye, or something,” Tony grumbled.

“Just tell them to be careful,” Rhodey suggested. Tony fixed another stare on him, entirely unimpressed.

“You've met them, right? I say that to them _daily_. There is logic behind their names.”

“And years of sleep deprivation, energy drinks, coffee, garbage college brains, and bad decisions,” Rhodey muttered, so that only the camera picked it up.

DUM-E reached Tony first, beeping cheerfully and scooting around. Whenever Rhodey watched him do that, he privately compared it to an excited child running to meet their dad when he comes home from work, saying “hi, Dad, hi Dad, guess what I did today”, talking a mile a minute, too excited to see him to be coherent.

(Rhodey was looking forward to watching Peter do that, in a couple years.)

“Hey, DUM-E,” Tony said, reaching out and patting DUM-E affectionately. He lifted Peter up to stand on his knees. “This is Peter. You remember when I told you about him, right? Showed you his picture. That one, over there.” He pointed to one of the work tables, one of the tidier ones, that he used for most of his programming and computer work. A framed Polaroid from the day Peter came home from the hospital sat next to his mouse pad.

DUM-E beeped and chirped, his arm lifting up and down a couple times like he was nodding.

“Right. Well, here's the real deal,” Tony continued, bouncing Peter a couple times. Peter giggled around the fingers he had stuck in his mouth, his big brown eyes fixed on the bot in front of him. “It's his birthday today.”

DUM-E chirped excitedly, scooting back and forth.

“Hear that, bud?” Tony said, turning Peter slightly so they could face each other. “He's saying 'Happy Birthday, Peter'.”

Rhodey didn't think Peter had stopped smiling since Tony brought him downstairs.

“Can you say 'DUM-E'?” Tony asked, bouncing Peter a little more.

Peter stared at him. “Mmmm.”

“DUM-E.”

“Ummm.”

“Ok,” Tony snickered, grinning at Rhodey. “Close enough.”

Peter reached up and patted Tony's face. “Dahey.”

The look on Tony's face as he went quiet and pressed his nose into Peter's soft hair, closing his eyes, made Rhodey think he had maybe, probably (definitely) turned to goo.

\---

“That did not go too badly,” Tony said, reaching the top of the stairs and setting Peter down on the floor to go do as he pleased for a while.

Peter didn't go anywhere.

Rhodey had to very carefully step directly over him to get into the living room.

Tony looked down at Peter. Peter looked back up at him expectantly. “What? What's that look for?”

Peter reached up as high as he could, patting at Tony's leg with both hands, babbling.

Tony looked up at Rhodey. “Correct me if I'm wrong but this may very well be his clingiest day to date.”

Rhodey, looking far too amused by this, raised his eyebrows. “I don't know, Tones, I think that's up for debate.”

Tony nudged Peter's foot with his sock-covered toe. “Go play, bud, I'm very boring,” he said.

“Yeah, you're really selling that,” Rhodey said unhelpfully from his spot on the couch.

Tony kept poking Peter with his toe in an attempt to get him moving. “I don't know if I'm going to be happy or sad when you stop being so clingy, kid,” he said, poking Peter in just the right spot to make him scrunch his entire body up, giggling and pushing at Tony's foot as he tipped over, like one of those weighted inflatable punching bags when it got hit too hard to pop back up.

(Yeah... he'd be sad. Definitely sad.)

Tony sighed in feigned resignation, leaning down to scoop his still giggly baby up off the floor, just as the front door opened.

“Welcome, Miss Potts,” JARVIS said smoothly as Pepper came in, closing the door with her foot, her arms full of a surprisingly large, flawlessly wrapped gift.

Pepper sighed, lowering the gift onto the table to join Rhodey's. “Thank you, JARVIS,” she said, adjusting her t-shirt from where the box had shifted it out of place.

“Hey, Pepper,” Tony and Rhodey both called.

“Hi, boys,” she answered, reaching up to tighten her ponytail.

“Join us in the living room, we're discussing my child's serial clinginess,” Tony added.

“Oh, so business as usual, then?” Pepper joked, coming into the living room and making a beeline for where Tony had sat Peter down on the couch in between himself and Rhodey. She tickled Peter's tummy and cupped his cheeks in both hands to press a kiss to his forehead. “Happy birthday, honey!” she cooed. Peter giggled and reached for her hands as she moved away, and she was perfectly happy to crouch on the ground in front of him and let him hold on to them. “So what else did I miss?”

“Introduced the kiddo to the bots just a little while ago,” Tony said. “Baked that cake – screw you, by the way...” Pepper giggled unrepentantly, watching Peter play with her fingers. “Gave Peter a bath, because flour is explosive.”

“Well, that all sounds like it must have been fun,” Pepper said, still talking in her “Peter” voice. (Everyone had one, even Rhodey, but you could not get him to admit it.) “Is that it?”

“Well, Tony cried this morning,” Rhodey said.

“Traitor,” Tony hissed.

Pepper looked surprised. “What? What on earth for?”

Tony grumbled, shooting Rhodey the finger over Peter's head. “Peter,” he began, shifting in his seat. “Peter said 'Daddy' for the first time this morning,” he said. “It was a, uh, _moment_.”

Pepper's eyes softened, and she turned back to Peter, tickling him again. “Did you make Daddy cry, Peter?” she asked playfully.

“Dahey!” Peter cheered, giggling and pushing unconvincingly at Pepper's hands.

Pepper grinned. “Oh, that's so cute,” she said. She looked up at Tony and teased, “I see why you cried.”

Pepper was lucky she in the wrong position for Tony to get away with another rude gesture without Peter seeing.

\---

“Ok, so since Happy still apparently thinks Peter is going to infect him with some sort of zombie disease that will make him like kids, which I'm sure would be horrifying for him, he won't be showing up today,” Tony said. “So, with the arrival of one Miss Potts, I believe all our guests are in attendance.” He reached over and helped Peter stand up on the couch. “What do you think, kid? Shall we get this party started?”

Glancing into the kitchen, which Tony had managed to clean _most of_ , Pepper raised an eyebrow. “Looks like the party already started, to me.”

“That was your fault,” Tony insisted, pointing at her.

“Oh, I'm sure,” she said sarcastically. Tony resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.

“Hey, JARVIS, put on Peter's mix, will you? Low volume. Baby ears. And guests.” Tony requested, turning away from the short bickering match to ask his AI to play the list he had been working on. Over the last year he had been making mental, and sometimes physical, notes of songs that Peter seemed to enjoy the most. Listening to it on a playlist, it was a strangely eclectic compilation, but he honestly expected nothing less from a child with his genetics.

“Of course,” JARVIS said. “Queuing _Your Song_ by Elton John. Would you like to sing along, sir?”

“Ha ha,” Tony said dryly. “Hard pass.”

He mostly refused because that song always made him think of those first few nights alone with Peter, singing to him to soothe the lonely, pitiful cries that kept them both awake during the wee hours. The nights that made Tony fall in love with his child, and helped him settle comfortably into the role of “Dad”. The emotions that came with the memories made his throat close up a little bit.

He would have to save the singing for bedtime. He didn't think Peter minded.

The song played for about a minute before Peter seemed to recognize it, and perked up, looking up at Tony like he was expecting the words to be coming out of his mouth rather than the stereo speakers.

Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter. “That's not me, bud. One of these days you _will_ learn the difference between 'live' and 'recorded'. And also the difference between me and Elton John.” Pepper stifled a poorly concealed giggle behind her hand, and Rhodey grinned shamelessly. Tony rolled his eyes and patted Peter's tummy gently. “Ok, party time. What first?”

“Presents,” Rhodey suggested. Pepper nodded in agreement.

Tony sighed. “Ok, fine, go get the loot, spoil my kid.”

Rhodey very courteously went to retrieve all the presents from the kitchen table, bringing them to the living room and depositing them on the coffee table. He patted the large one from Pepper. “This one made an interesting noise, open it first, I'm curious.”

“It's nothing special,” Pepper said, “I just thought the two of you might both enjoy it.”

Tony shifted the large package within Peter's reach. “Ok, kid, you probably have no memory of doing this on Christmas, but have at it.”

Peter, unsurprisingly, just stared at the box. Experimentally reached out and patted it. Seemed to enjoy the crinkling noise the paper made. Patted it again.

“I just remembered how long opening presents actually took on Christmas,” Rhodey said. “Pep, we may be here a while.”

“Good, I missed his first Christmas,” Pepper said with a grin, leaning forward to watch Peter explore the present.

“Maybe help a bit, huh, Dad?” Rhodey suggested, snickering when Tony looked at him in resignation.

Tony ran a hand over Peter's head, then slid a finger under the closest flap of paper and ran it along until he reached the tape and made the first tear. He was vaguely aware of Rhodey training the video camera on them again.

Much like on Christmas, the noise startled Peter a little, but it didn't scare him. He leaned forward with renewed interest, his hand joining Tony's at the rip.

“Go for it, kiddo,” Tony encouraged. “Rip it open, see what Aunt Pepper brought for you.”

Peter got a grip on the paper and tugged on it, ripping it some more. The noise made him giggle, and he pulled some more, just barely revealing a box underneath the paper with some sort of colorful image and text printed on it. A little more tugging, with some more prompting from Tony, and more of the picture was revealed. Small children, playing with wooden blocks in all shapes and sizes. _Aha_.

Peter pointed at the picture and looked at Tony, babbling in a way that sounded like he was asking a question.

Not entirely sure what he really wanted, Tony just gestured to the half-torn paper. “Why don't you find out?”

Peter couldn't reach some of the corners of the box to get the paper off, so Tony helped a little, and soon enough the whole box was revealed.

“Hey, look at that, Aunt Pepper got you some blocks, Pete,” Tony said, acting like he hadn't been able to tell as soon as he saw the picture on the side. Peter babbled, patting and poking the box. “Yeah, we'll open those later, show you what you can do with them.” Tony looked up at Pepper. “We'll have some fun with this, thanks, Pep.”

“You're welcome,” Pepper said, smiling. Peter looked at her too, and she made a funny face at him to make him giggle.

Tony turned to Rhodey's presents next. “Platypus, I hate to break it to you, but Peter still hates planes, so if there's anything in there with a plane on it, I can't promise he'll like it.”

“I kept that in mind when I bought them,” Rhodey said, grinning. “I'm not a mean uncle.”

One of the gifts was not a plane, but it was a fluffy teddy bear nearly the size of Peter and dressed in an Air Force pilot jumpsuit. Peter squealed when he removed enough of the paper to see what it was, and seemed delighted by how soft the fur was. He kept scrunching his hand in it, babbling excitedly and beaming.

Before Tony could say a word, Rhodey grinned at Peter's reaction. “Well, that's all the thanks I need, looks like he loves it. Do you like the bear, Pete?”

Peter's response was to hold the bear up to show Rhodey, still smiling, every single tooth he had on full display.

Tony nudged the back of his finger against Peter cheek. “Say 'thank you, Uncle Rhodey',” he prompted, knowing full well that Peter completely lacked the vocabulary to even try.

The adorable babbling was a good substitute, though.

The other “Uncle Rhodey” present was disarmingly heavy, despite not being too large, and the reason for that turned out to be because it was a box full of baby and children's books. Peter knew what those were, and he immediately stuck his hand in the box to root through it.

Tony was secretly really excited about the books, because snuggling into the comfy nursery chair with Peter and a stack of books was one of his favorite ways to spend an hour or two, reading the words on the page and letting Peter explore the picture as long as he wanted before turning to the next one. Peter was getting more into interactive books, too, like pop-ups and “lift the flaps” and things with textures, so Tony was happy to see plenty of interactive titles in the box.

Peter tugged a book out of the box and handed it to Tony, babbling questioningly. Tony took the book, slightly confused.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asked, taking the book, feeling like he was maybe probably definitely missing something.

Peter patted the book insistently.

_Oh_.

“Peter, now's not book time, now is party time,” Tony said, holding back a laugh.

Peter patted the book again. “Dahey.”

“Peter,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow.

“Dahey. Peas.”

Tony blinked. Pepper gasped. Rhodey's mouth fell open.

Peter patted the book again, starting to look a little impatient. “Dahey, _peas_.”

“Peas,” Tony repeated dumbly, looking up at Rhodey and Pepper for help. Rhodey just shrugged, but Pepper frowned in concentration, mouthing the word silently.

“ _Please_?” Pepper asked slowly.

Peter looked at her and patted the book again. “Peas,” he repeated.

“Book, please?” Pepper asked, leaning forward to look Peter in the eye.

Peter looked satisfied – or, as satisfied as a one year old could look. “Peas.”

Tony lifted Peter onto his knee, still dumbfounded by the third new word in one day. “Book, please, huh? Good manners, Pete,” he praised. He looked at the book that was still in his hand. _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_. “I guess we can read one book, then, since you went to the trouble of learning a new word. And asked so politely.”

Rhodey and Pepper both laughed.

“Turn the camera off, Platypus, this is going to waste film,” Tony added, already settling back into the couch with Peter leaning against his chest to read the new book.

\---

Peter, somewhat predictably, fell asleep while Tony was reading to him. He had been awake for quite a while, and the morning had been pretty exciting, by not-quite-toddler-yet standards.

“Oh, look,” Pepper whispered, about halfway through the book. “He's sound asleep.” Her tone implied that she would be melting into the floor if she physically could.

Tony stopped mid-sentence and looked down at the baby in his lap. Peter was, indeed, sound asleep, snuffling softly, his head tilted to the side. His cheek squished slightly against Tony's chest, pushing his mouth open slightly. Miraculously, he hadn't started drooling yet.

“Aw, baby,” Tony whispered, closing the book and moving a hand up to card through Peter's hair. “I'm gonna go put him to bed,” he added, keeping his eyes on the sweet sleeping face of his son. He moved slowly, not wanting to jostle Peter and wake him up. He got up from the couch, adjusting Peter in his arms, and carried the little boy down the hall He just barely heard Pepper whisper “Sweet dreams, Peter” behind him as he left the living room.

Peter stirred and woke up a little bit as Tony moved to settle him in his crib, and he grunted and babbled sleepily, like he was protesting naptime.

Tony held Peter closer again. “Buddy, you're so sleepy,” he crooned softly, swaying in place. “You've got to take a nap, you were sleeping just fine a few minutes ago.”

Peter babbled some more, pushing his face into Tony's shoulder and lethargically closing his little fist around the collar of Tony's shirt. “Dahey,” he mumbled, eyes at half-mast.

Warmth flooded Tony's chest. “Daddy's right here, bub,” he murmured, leaning his cheek against the top of Peter's head. He walked over to the chair in the corner and sat down, assuming their favorite naptime position, with one leg flung over the arm, leaning diagonally into the corner. Peter hunkered down, apparently recognizing that he had won today's naptime debate. He wasn't quite back to sleep yet, but he was already snuffling again, and the familiar sound tugged at Tony's heart.

Tony stroked a hand up and down Peter's back rhythmically. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he whispered, echoing Pepper's words. “Daddy will be right here when you wake up.”

\---

Peter woke up from his nap bright eyed and bushy tailed, and ready to keep celebrating his birthday, even though Tony was positive the kid hadn't actually gotten a grasp on what that meant, yet.

Tony had decided he would give Peter the presents from himself later, when it was just the two of them again. That way Peter could take all the time he wanted to explore each thing, without Tony having to worry about entertaining guests, even if those guests were just Rhodey and Pepper.

That meant the next activity was watching Peter demolish the cake they had baked that morning.

One of them, anyway. Pepper had called about halfway through the baking process and suggested baking a smaller cake for Peter to make a mess of, so that there would still be something to eat when he was done.

Tony had, admittedly, not thought of that.

Everyone needed a Pepper.

Just not _this_ Pepper, he needed her, specifically. He wasn't willing to share.

Tony stripped Peter down to his diaper again, realizing with somewhere between dismay and amusement that he was probably going to have to give Peter _another_ bath by the time this was over, and put him back in his high chair. Pepper suggested (and Rhodey insisted) that they sing “Happy Birthday”. Tony rolled his eyes, but when they started, he leaned close to Peter's high chair and sang along softly, just loud enough for Peter to hear.

Pepper put the small cake down on the high chair tray. There was a single lit candle in the shape of a “1” in the middle, which Peter stared at hard enough that he looked like he was searching for the answers to every question in the universe. Tony let his hand hover close in case Peter got the urge to touch the flame.

Rhodey and his ever-present video camera stepped a little closer. Tony saw his finger flick over the zoom wheel, probably getting a closeup of Peter and the cake. “Make a wish, Peter,” he said, somewhat jokingly. “Blow out the candle.”

Peter looked around at all the adults surrounding him, smiling because they were smiling at him, and reaching up to hold onto Tony's finger when his gaze landed on him. With his free hand, he poked the icing on the side of the cake.

“Right, ok, he's a year old, he doesn't know how to blow out a birthday candle,” Tony said, leaning forward quickly and puffing out a short breath to extinguish the flickering flame. Peter blinked in surprise, probably wondering where it went, but kept poking at the icing. That was fine, that's what that cake was for.

Tony plucked the candle out of the cake and offered the end covered in icing and cake crumbs to Peter.

“I'm guessing he's never had cake before,” Rhodey said.

“Nope,” Tony replied, watching Peter tilt his head up a bit and open his mouth. “Gave him a bit of icing after I frosted the cake, though. He liked it.” Tony nudged the end of the candle inside Peter's mouth and let him lick the sugary mess off of it, before pulling it away and dropping it on the counter.

“Oh, he loved that, his eyes lit up,” Pepper noted.

Tony bent down to Peter's eye level. Peter smiled brightly at him, and he would have been unable to keep himself from smiling back, even if he wanted to. “Go nuts, buddy, make a mess,” he encouraged, gesturing to the little cake that Peter had already poked a few holes in. “Your first few birthdays will be some of the only times in your life where you'll actually get permission for that, enjoy it.”

It took Peter a minute to figure out that nobody was going to stop him from poking, grabbing, or squishing the cake on his tray, but after that he went to town on it. After about five minutes, his little hands were completely covered in mushed up chocolate cake and icing. Tony was pretty sure some had fallen into his lap or on the floor, too, but he'd wait until the cake portion of the day was done before he even tried to clean it up.

\---

The “toddler on a sugar rush” horror story, so far – fingers crossed – didn't seem to apply to Peter. Actually, after Tony had taken some pictures of him with cake all over his face and given him a very quick sink bath to clean him up, he was surprisingly calm. Tony got him redressed once he was clean, then took him back to the living room with Rhodey and Pepper.

Tony broke out the blocks Pepper had given Peter, spreading some out of the carpet near his feet for Peter to play with while the adults had slices of the regular cake. Peter stayed very close to Tony, happy to play by himself, but often holding up a block or two to show him.

Pepper had to leave first, because she had sacrificed quite a bit of time to come, and even though Tony had let her use his home office to do some work while Peter napped, she still had a lot to do, so she knelt down next to Peter to give him a kiss goodbye.

“Happy birthday, hon,” she said, brushing his curls back affectionately. Then she stood up and went home to get changed back into “appropriate” work clothes, as opposed to her t-shirt and jeans.

(Technically, with Tony as her boss, he could have sanctioned the jeans as “appropriate”, but whenever he tried, she claimed it didn't look “professional enough”, which. Screw that. But her choice.)

Rhodey left not too long after. He stayed and chatted with Tony for a while (and Tony felt not entirely unlike the gossipy old maids in a bad period drama), but eventually made his excuses.

“I'm sure you and Peter will want some time to play with his new stuff, and I'm even more sure you have some more presents stowed away somewhere, so I'm gonna head back to the base and let you guys do that,” Rhodey said, standing up and stretching. (Tony heard bones popping and cracking, and he winced.) He knelt down to ruffle Peter's hair. “Happy birthday, little guy. Have fun with your dad.”

Peter looked up, eyes bright. “Dahey!”

Rhodey grinned at Tony. “Right, kid. Just don't make him cry too hard.” Tony swatted at him. He dodged, laughing. Once he was sure Tony wasn't going to do it again, he leaned down for a quick hug, then left, bidding farewell to JARVIS on his way out, because Rhodey was just great that way.

(Tony was pretty sure he snagged another piece of cake on his way out.)

Tony slid off the couch to join Peter, kneeling among the small mess of blocks to see what Peter had been up to while the adults were talking. “All right, what have you been doing down here, kiddo?”

It looked like he had been poking and pushing them around, and occasionally hitting a couple together to enjoy the noise it made, but otherwise had not been using them for their intended purpose, which was, of course, stacking.

Tony picked up a long, skinny block and nudged Peter's bare foot with it. Peter giggled. Tony grinned. “Ok, bud, let's see if we can't figure out what we can do with these, huh?”

Peter watched with interest as Tony placed the block he was holding on top of another block.

Tony handed Peter another block. “You try.”

Peter took the block.

And knocked over the two-block-tall tower with it.

Tony laughed for ages.

\---

The rest of the day was spent in a very similar way. Peter (slowly) started to figure out how to stack blocks without knocking them over too often, they spent a while opening and playing with the presents that Tony had bought, and the ones that Roberta sent over from Philadelphia. Tony ordered a pizza for dinner, because Peter was still being the clingiest he had arguably ever been, and they ate on the floor in the living room. Tony tore Peter's slice into small bites, and they watched a Discovery Channel special about penguins while they ate.

He had a feeling Peter just really liked the waddling; he giggled every time it was shown on screen. That meant he was giggling through most of the documentary, which Tony honestly enjoyed more than the animal fun facts.

About halfway through the documentary, Peter crawled into Tony's lap, nestling into the cozy nook his crossed legs made. He curled up in a little ball with his head resting on Tony's knee, and he didn't fall asleep right away, he just stayed there, calm and content. The sight melted Tony's heart, and he raked his fingers gently through Peter's soft hair, stroking his thumb gently over the top of his soft cheek, basking in the weighted warmth of a snuggly baby. _His_ snuggly baby.

“How did I get so lucky, Pete?” Tony murmured, looking down at Peter, who was still watching the documentary, though his eyes were starting to look a little half-lidded. “Huh? What did I do to deserve you?”

Peter looked up at Tony briefly, babbling sleepily, reaching up to stick his thumb in his mouth the way he had recently started doing when he was sleepy.

Tony kept stroking the feather-soft hair, watching him get sleepier and sleepier. “One year, buddy,” he said, mostly to himself. “I've had you for one year. Don't know what I'd do without you, kiddo.”

He didn't really want to think about it, either. Having Peter had changed him, in ways he hadn't thought possible. He liked to think it was for the better. He had a feeling that it was. He'd had a few drinks since bringing Peter home, but as of now, it had been months since his last, and he was only a little surprised by how little he missed it. Even his sleeping schedule was (a little) better, because he couldn't risk not being sober enough, or awake and alert enough to take care of Peter when he needed him.

Tony watched Peter's eyes finally slip closed, unconsciously nuzzling into his knee. Not wanting to disrupt Peter by moving him as he fell asleep, Tony kissed his fingertips and pressed them to Peter's forehead.

“Happy birthday, baby. I love you so much.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaa
> 
> I got so many feels writing this chapter
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy it
> 
> I love y'all a lot I hope you know that


	19. Baby Takes a Stand... And Maybe A Step Or Two (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter had been building up to standing by himself for a long time. He liked holding on to Tony for support a lot, either gripping his pant leg or one of his fingers with both little hands. He had even taken a couple of very tiny shuffling steps holding onto Tony's hand. His feet hadn't really left the ground, and he had only moved a few inches, but his efforts had earned him heaps of enthusiastic praise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I busted my knee lol
> 
> On the bright side that makes me super productive in terms of writing, because I literally can't do much else
> 
> Enjoy this chapter, I had fun writing it, and it only took me about two hours to crank out, which is pretty cool, since the last chapter took me about six weeks fhgfh. This is a "short and sweet" one.

“Sir, there is something you may be interested in seeing in the nursery,” JARVIS said cryptically.

Tony looked up from his computer screen. “Good or bad?” he asked suspiciously.

“You'll have to see for yourself,” JARVIS replied.

Well, that meant it couldn't be bad, Tony thought with some relief. If something was really wrong with Peter, JARVIS had to tell him outright, he wasn't allowed to be vague about it.

Tony got up and left his home office, making his way down the hall to Peter's room. The sight once he got there made him stop dead in his tracks.

Peter was standing by his toy box, which wasn't an unusual occurrence. The unusual part was that he wasn't holding onto anything except the teddy bear in his arms, holding it up with one hand and poking and stroking at the fuzzy nose of it with the other, babbling quietly to himself.

Peter had been building up to standing by himself for a long time. He liked holding on to Tony for support a lot, either gripping his pant leg or one of his fingers with both little hands. He had even taken a couple of very tiny shuffling steps holding onto Tony's hand. His feet hadn't really left the ground, and he had only moved a few inches, but his efforts had earned him heaps of enthusiastic praise.

Tony was a little bit speechless, standing in the nursery doorway, gaping at his kid.

Finally he cleared his throat. “What... what are you up to, bud?” he asked, trying for a casual tone that ended up sounding a little strangled.

Peter looked up in Tony's direction and beamed. “Dahey!” he said happily. “Dahey, hi!”

Tony couldn't help the smile that took over his face at the simple words said in Peter's high voice. “Hi” was something he had learned how to say recently, and he used it at every opportunity. “Hi, bubba,” Tony said. “What are you up to?” he repeated, lowering to a crouch.

Instead of answering, Peter apparently thought it prudent to give Tony a small heart attack, leaving his bear on the floor by the toy box and _toddling in Tony's direction_. He didn't drop down and crawl, oh no, he started _walking_.

Granted, he only made it about five steps before losing his balance and falling onto his butt with a small huff of surprise, but they were much bigger and more independent steps than Tony had ever seen him take before, and the realization of it kinda sorta made Tony want to cry. He didn't, but he could have.

Before Tony could move to pick Peter up off the floor, Peter picked _himself_ up, clearly determined to walk across the floor on his own. He was still smiling, which was good, because it meant that falling hadn't upset him. He took a few more little steps toward Tony, his arms bent at the elbows and held up in a funny position that sort of made Tony think of some sort of hybrid between a Frankenstein's monster walk and the chicken dance, probably for balance.

Tony figured some encouragement would be well-placed, and he held his arms out to Peter. “That's it, buddy, come here,” he coaxed. “You're doing so good. Come here, bubba.”

Peter babbled a little, his face scrunched up in adorably intense concentration as he wobbled his way across the room. “Dahey,” he said again. He was about halfway to Tony, now.

“Yeah, Pete,” Tony crooned, keeping his arms wide open for Peter to walk into. “Daddy's so proud of you, keep going.”

Peter stumbled and fell again, forward this time, but he managed to catch himself, throwing both hands out to hit the carpet before his face did, and he stood up straight quickly. He looked to Tony, maybe for approval.

“Good job, Peter,” Tony said. “That was really good. Come here, kiddo.”

Peter pressed forward, his little feet moving with deliberate steps, his eyes trained on Tony's face.

“Almost there, baby, just a little more,” Tony continued. Peter was close enough now that he was ready to lurch forward and scoop him up in a hug as soon as he was within reach to do so. “Just a few more steps.”

As soon as Peter realized how close he was, he picked up his pace. It made him a little more wobbly, but if he noticed he didn't care, too determined to get to Tony. “Dahey,” he repeated hopefully, about a foot and a half away from walking into Tony's arms.

Tony's eyes were starting to burn. “Come here,” he repeated hoarsely. “Just a little farther, and Daddy will catch you. I promise.”

Peter held his arms out to Tony as he got even closer. Three more steps brought him close enough that he could touch Tony's fingertips with his own little hands. Two more and Tony was moving, swiftly and smoothly leaning forward to swing Peter up off the floor and into his arms as he stood. Peter squealed happily and giggled, snuggling into Tony's chest, reaching up to put his short arms around his neck to the best of his ability.

Tony leaned his cheek against the top of Peter's head, feeling the soft curls brush against his skin. “I got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, swaying slightly. “You did so good. Daddy's so proud of you.”

“Dahey,” Peter said, his hand curling into the fabric of Tony's button-up. He sounded very self-satisfied, like he was proud of himself for reaching Tony.

Tony pressed a long kiss to Peter's forehead. “Love you, baby,” he said. “Thank you for letting me see that.”

His kid continued to amaze him, and he had a feeling that wasn't going to change any time soon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of "Baby's Firsts" that's really set in stone, I'll probably add a couple more from time to time, but as far as pre-planned chapters, this was the last one. I'm a little emotional about it, tbh, like this fic has meant so much to me because of all the lovely people who read it and love it and leave comments. You guys have honestly been my inspiration, and I hope you continue to be as I work on other things. I love you.
> 
> Speaking of working on other things, I got... not EXACTLY a request, but kind of, to write teenage Peter with PTSD getting a service dog, and I loved that idea, so be on the lookout for that, as well as another kid!Peter with asthma fic, which was actually a legitimate request, lol. Just because this fic is more or less ending doesn't mean I'm slowing down any time soon!
> 
> On a non-writing-related note, MY COUSINS ARE COMING TO VISIT TODAY!!! Since I busted my knee my dad has to come in and help me finish getting my room ready so we can put a mattress on the floor, and me and my sibling and one of my cousins are gonna have a big three-night sleepover this weekend, I'm so excited. I do feel bad about my dad having to clean my room for me, but it was his idea and not mine, so it's not like he's doing it against his will.

**Author's Note:**

> I just thought this would be a fun idea.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr and Instagram @riseuplikeglitterandgold!


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